


Forgetting Adam Warshall

by lasersheith



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Curtis is also here I guess, Fluff, Forgetting Sarah Marshall AU, Humor, M/M, Past Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Past James Griffin/Keith (Voltron), a LOT of alcohol, bartender!keith, blink and you miss it mattor, he's just happy to be included, heavily implied boning but no dicks, minor angst with a happy ending, musician!shiro, tv star!Adam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:33:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22200349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lasersheith/pseuds/lasersheith
Summary: Breaking up is always hard to do; it’s even harder when your ex is an ultra-famous TV star.After months on tour with his band and throwing himself into his work, Shiro’s best friend convinces him to take a vacation. A peaceful Hawaiian getaway seems like just the thing to take his mind off his troubles, until Shiro discovers his ex, Adam, is there with his new boyfriend. A rebound isn’t usually Shiro’s style, but the resort’s gorgeous bartender might be exactly what he needs.
Relationships: Adam/Curtis (Voltron), Hunk & Keith (Voltron), Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 89
Kudos: 236
Collections: Sheith Big Bang 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely based on Forgetting Sarah Marshall, not a one-for-one retelling. There’s no cheating and no “bad guy” or whatever. Also no puppets because those freak me out. 
> 
> I tricked myself into liking Lance/Matt with one of my earlier fics and now I’ve tricked myself into liking Curtis/Adam with this one. Why am I like this??

Matt’s apartment was large and luxurious, a penthouse suite perfect for the parties he’d throw given the slightest excuse. Celebrating the end of Seam Ripper’s first major tour was the only legitimate reason Shiro had ever seen him use for such an extravagant gathering. Bottles upon bottles of champagne, wine, and spirits littered every surface of the enormous kitchen and few, if any, hands lacked a flute, goblet, or glass. 

Matt was the only person outside of the film industry Shiro had ever met who hired waitstaff for his house parties, and it sent a shiver of unwelcome nostalgia down his spine as he plucked a fancy hors d'oeuvre from a young man’s tray. The waiter disappeared into the living room as Shiro munched down on the delicious, veggie-covered flatbread. He did his best to shove down the reminder of set parties, and focus on the slowly ebbing high of the screaming fans who’d greeted them at every stop along their tour. 

“Shiro!” A familiar, extremely drunk voice called. 

Years-long habit made Shiro brace reflexively for the arm that soon draped around his shoulder to pull him into a brief, companionable embrace. He steadied his drink against the sudden movement as he answered, “Hey Rolo. Enjoying the party?” 

Rolo grinned, swaying on his feet as he grabbed another flute of champagne and slammed it back. “Hell yeah, brother! One tour down, a million to go!” He wailed as if he were back on stage, sloshing champagne all over Matt’s travertine tile as he busted out an air-bass solo. 

Shiro wrinkled his nose, grabbing the now-nearly-empty glass from Rolo’s flailing arm. Lotor would insist Matt hire a cleaning crew in the morning regardless, but it felt disrespectful to their manager and friend to purposely wreck his home. He set the glass on the glistening marble countertop and lightly tapped his knuckles against Rolo’s chest. 

“Easy there, man. Wrecking the place stopped being cool in the nineties,” he said with a chuckle. 

Rolo looked abashed, head panning to take in the mess he’d made of the floor. “Haha, whoops,” he dismissed with hardly a second glance. “So anyway, how’s it goin? You’ve been quiet all night.” 

Shiro shrugged and took a careful sip. “It’s going great! Really, I’m so happy with how the tour went and I can’t wait to get back to regular gigs and writing new stuff. Nothing beats sleeping in your own bed.”  _ Alone,  _ he added bitterly in his head. 

Rolo scoffed and rolled his eyes, leaning uncomfortably close to Shiro’s face. “You sound like you’re doin’ an interview, lighten the hell up!”

Shiro stared at him blankly, politely tolerant as Rolo drunkenly laughed and swayed. He tried to think of something to say, any bit of small talk to change the subject and not seem so tense, but nothing came to him. 

Rolo grabbed a bottle of wine from the counter and took an inadvisably hefty sip, coughing a little as the glass left his lips with a pop. “Fine, fine. At least tell me you’re doing something fun this weekend,” he slurred. 

Shiro shrugged. “I’m probably going to spend most of it writing, I have some new songs planned that I think-” 

A spray of frothy booze hit Shiro full in the face as Rolo pursed his lips and blew a raspberry. It took all of his self control to keep himself from throwing the punch Rolo had been begging for basically since they’d met. 

“Bo-oring!” Rolo declared triumphantly, smirking as Shiro scrubbed the spittle from his face. “You should come out with me and Nyma. There’s a new club downtown she’s been going on and on about, I guess they have a rooftop bar...”

Shiro retreated into the fantasy of how satisfying it would be to lay Rolo out flat on his back with one punch in lieu of listening to him prattle on. He busied his hands filling a glass with a ridiculously expensive imported watermelon flavored Vodka and took a sip, letting the sweet and tangy flavor soothe his nerves. 

“... and that’s if I can pull her away from the damn TV. Season five of  _ Stream Valley  _ comes out on Friday and she’ll be binging it until her eyes bleed.”

Rolo’s voice faded into a high-pitched ringing in Shiro’s ears along with the rest of the din of the party around them. Memories of Adam flooded into his head with all the force of a river bursting through a dam. Their first date, first kiss, first fight, the first time Adam brought him to a set party for that godforsaken show, all the way until the last time they’d spoken: the day Adam told him to pick between a life of touring with the band he loved or being Adam’s set trophy, traveling with him wherever they were filming for the week. 

It had hardly been a choice, and Shiro was still completely confident he’d chosen correctly, but the air in the room still felt thick around him, threatening to choke him with everything that was left unresolved between them. 

Rolo cocked an eyebrow at the sudden clink of glass on countertop as Shiro set his drink down and held up a hand. “Need some air,” he nearly gasped, turning on his heels and pushing through the throng of people to get to the balcony.

The blast of crisp, cool air outside made Shiro feel like he was walking into a bucket of ice water as soon as he opened the door. It wasn’t exactly pleasant, but it relieved some of the burning in his cheeks and chest and for that at least, he was grateful. 

Shiro’s shoulders rose and fell with each of his slow, measured breaths. He wished he hadn’t abandoned his half-empty glass of watermelon vodka in his haste to escape Rolo, but he couldn’t stand to hear any more mention of Adam or that damn show. Angry tears pricked his eyes and he stubbornly blinked them away; he’d already let far too many spill far too often. 

A few quiet moments listening to the bustling traffic below and the nearby conversations muted through the buffer of ornate glass left Shiro feeling calmer, if not better. But the sound of the door opening behind him made his shoulders tense as he lost his grip on any inner peace he’d managed to find. He stubbornly refused to turn around. 

“You’re not even that famous yet. You can’t turn into a mopey edgelord before you hit platinum,” Matt teased with a friendly tone. “Here.” 

Shiro felt the condensation of the flute against his arm and turned to smile with as much gratitude as he could muster. Before he could bring the glass to his lips and slam the champagne back like a shot, Matt held his own aloft and cleared his throat. 

“To new beginnings and letting go of the past,” he toasted, not meeting Shiro’s eyes. 

They drank in silence for a moment, both looking out over the city still teeming despite the late hour. It was a tense silence, but still somehow companionable. Matt rarely talked about anything serious and he was clearly working his way up to it; Shiro was more than content to let him take all the time he needed. 

Matt opened his mouth and closed it again a few times before sighing and turning towards Shiro. “It’s been six months, dude.” His voice came out barely a whisper. 

Shiro downed the rest of his drink and stared at the empty flute instead of looking at Matt. “I know, I’m sorry.” Hundreds of excuses welled up in his throat but he let them die there. 

Matt elbowed him gently in the arm. “Don’t be sorry, Shiro. I know it’s gotta be hard. You guys were together for so long…” 

“Four years,” Shiro interjected in a flat monotone. It was still hard to believe sometimes. 

“Right,” Matt muttered. “Anyway, nobody expects you to just be totally fine, but now that the tour is over maybe you should take some Shiro time. Go on a road trip, fly to Aruba, do something just for you.” His voice grew louder and more enthusiastic as he spoke. 

Shiro smiled. “Trying to get rid of me already?” They shared a congenial laugh. 

“Of course not,” Matt assured him, reaching a hand up and gripping his shoulder. “But seriously, we’re splurging for separate hotel rooms next tour. Your socks after a show could kill an elephant, I’m lucky to be alive.” 

Shiro scoffed and pushed Matt’s hand away. “At least I don’t leave them on the bathroom sink, you monster.” 

Matt rolled his eyes and gestured with his empty glass over the railing. “For real though, Shiro, you should get away. If you need some cash, Lotor and I can float you some. Hell, I’ll pay for it.” 

The gesture was touching and Shiro turned toward him with a smile. “Well if you’re buying, I’ve always wanted to see Hawaii.” 

* * *

Matt had been kind enough to set Shiro up in first class, so the six hour flight was comfortable and pleasant with plenty of legroom and a complimentary mimosa. He’d even managed to get a little writing done for the song that had been plaguing the back of his mind since early on in the tour. 

The short walk from the gate to the baggage claim felt like heaven on his heavy legs after sitting all morning and the expansive, clean windows showed a beautiful view of the week in paradise that lay ahead of him. With a broad smile, Shiro sent a text to Matt letting him know that he’d landed and thanking him again. 

Shiro’s good mood plummeted as he recognized a familiar, unwelcome face staring down at him from the melodramatic poster plastered to the wall right in front of baggage claim. The red lights announcing the arrival of all the luggage gleamed overhead as Shiro glared at the advertisement. The blocky font proclaiming  _ filming on location! _ further sullied his spirits.

He looked down just as his suitcase was passing by and managed to snag it without barreling over the tourists crowded around him. With his suitcase in one hand and guitar in the other, he hurried toward the line of taxis outside. 

The scenery was soothing and gorgeous on the drive to the resort. Shiro’s taxi driver spent the whole ride pointing out the best places to go and things to see, chattering away while playing tour guide. It was an enjoyable ride and the scenery was doing wonders for Shiro’s mood. The driver leapt out of the car and scrambled to get Shiro’s bags for him as soon as they reached the drop off for the resort. Shiro made sure to thank him and leave him a large tip for the help and the lovely company. 

The lobby would have been beautiful, Shiro was sure, if he could have seen it. As things were, the front desk was almost entirely occluded by a teeming mass of exuberant young people, screaming and wailing, shaking sharpies and notebooks in the air above their heads. His jaw tightened again at the sight and he felt a headache begin to blossom in his temples. 

Shiro knew deep in his heart that the mob surrounding the desk and the poster he’d seen at the airport had to be related, but his soul refused to accept the possibility. It was too unlikely, he told himself as he used his broad shoulders to push through the group to the desk. There was no way Adam and his stupid show would be  _ here  _ of all places  _ today  _ of all days…

And then suddenly, there he was. 

“Takashi?” Adam’s voice seemed to call from far away. His lips were parted in disbelief and the thin frames of his glasses slid down his nose. 

“Adam…” Shiro wanted to turn around and leave, or to explain himself, assure Adam it was a terrible coincidence and he wasn’t some kind of stalker, but nothing came out of his mouth. 

A handsome man had been hovering just outside the chaos, but now he approached to rest his arm around Adam's waist with a familiarity that had ice running in Shiro's veins. "Who's your friend, babe?" 

_ Babe.  _ The ice turned into daggers and Shiro had to consciously unclench his jaw again. 

"Oh, uh," Adam sputtered, clearing his throat. "Takashi, this is Curtis, my boyfriend. Curtis, this is Takashi, uh," he paused, pleading with his eyes for Shiro to not make this more awkward than it needed to be.

Shiro plastered on as warm a smile as he could manage and stuck out his hand for Curtis to shake. "Shirogane. My friends usually call me Shiro." It was childish, but he let the prosthetic squeeze far harder than was strictly necessary. 

Curtis took it in stride, hiding his wince behind his smile before letting go. "Did you come here to see Adam filming?" Shiro was braced for hostility and suspicion, but Curtis seemed to be asking out of genuine curiosity and politeness. 

"Happy accident, actually. I got back from a long work trip and needed some rest and relaxation time. Just happened to choose this hotel." His smile was still forced, but less so now. "I should go check in and let you get back to your adoring fans, Adam. It was great running into you, I'm glad you seem to be doing well." The lie rolled off his tongue far too easily. 

Shiro would have liked to think he was a big enough man to wish Adam the best in the wake of their split, but confronted with the reality of Adam's apparent good fortune, Shiro was far less happy than he probably should have been. 

Curtis bumped his shoulder into Adam's and chuckled. "Hopefully the resort will post some guards in the next few days so he stops getting mobbed. It was nice to meet you, Takashi. Let us know if you'd like to get dinner or something while you're here!" 

Shiro smiled and nodded before turning to push through the last few fans between himself and the frazzled young woman behind the desk. Check in was a breeze despite the throng and he was given his keys, a tourism pamphlet, and the hours for the concierge services before shuffling back through the crowd to find the elevators. They were tucked away in the main hall, far enough from all of the commotion that Shiro was finally able to steal a few deep breaths. The ride up to the third floor was quick and quiet, and Shiro was immeasurably thankful. 

He stumbled down the hall in a daze until he got to his room. It all seemed so surreal. What were the chances that Adam would be here, right now, at this very resort? The universe seemed to be playing a cruel joke on him. 

The keycard made the lock light up green and chirp pleasantly, allowing Shiro to push the heavy door open. He almost couldn’t believe his eyes as he took in the enormity of the room, or  _ suite _ rather, Matt had booked for him. 

Shiro kicked his shoes off by the door and let it swing shut slowly behind him. He stepped into the room proper and gaped. It was the size of a one bedroom apartment, complete with magazine-ready furnishings. While the kitchenette to his right was nice, it was the living room stretched out before him that drew Shiro’s eyes immediately. He stared past the plush white sectional tucked in the far corner at the floor-to-ceiling glass that led to the balcony. He could only see a glimpse of the view through the curtains, but it overlooked the beach and would be perfect for watching the sunrise in the morning.

Forgoing the temptation to soak up the early afternoon sun, he ventured into the bedroom and shook his head with a fond smile. Matt had really gone all out for this trip and Shiro was touched. The huge king-sized bed would have been the most luxurious part of the room, but the wall to Shiro’s left was also glass, giving him the same gorgeous ocean view from the balcony but unobstructed by the railing. He could watch the sun set the ocean ablaze in pinks, oranges, and yellows without ever having to leave the comfort of his bed. 

The last room to explore in Shiro’s suite was the bathroom. He’d expected a shower and nice vanity, perhaps a tub to soak in, but he had to laugh when he flicked the light on. In addition to the standard bathroom fare along the edges of the room, the center of it held the largest jacuzzi Shiro had ever seen indoors. It could easily fit four adults. Maybe more. He couldn’t resist snapping a photo and texting it to Matt.

**Shiro** : Got to the room. Is this a hint? 

**Matt** : ;) 

**Matt** : Go nuts dude!!! Vacaayyy!

Shiro laughed again and tossed his phone onto the bed. He stuffed all his clothes in the drawers, idly wondering if he should mention his Adam-predicament to Matt. Flopping down onto the soft, lavish comforter, Shiro stared out at the water glistening in the sunlight for a while, letting the sight of the gently tumbling waves soothe him. 

His eyes began to droop, feeling leaden with serenity. Soon he was fast asleep, stresses melting away with the tide. 


	2. Chapter 2

The room was nearly pitch dark when Shiro woke up a few hours later. The curtains were still open, revealing a beautiful scene of the stars reflecting on the ocean outside of his window. It was idyllic, like the photos people used for postcards. 

Shiro stood and rolled his shoulders and neck, cursing himself for falling asleep in such an uncomfortable position as he walked to the window to get a better look at the view. A few twinkling lights just at the edge of his vision showed the resort’s outdoor bar bustling with activity for the evening. Shiro glanced at the small clock on the bedside table. The night was still young, and he decided he’d earned a few hours of relaxation at the bar. Maybe he’d even find a handsome stranger and put the swanky room Matt had spent so much money to procure for him to its intended use. 

After freshening up in the bathroom and putting on his most alluring outfit, Shiro headed downstairs. It felt silly to practice pick up lines and small talk in his head as he walked, but he realized that after four years in a relationship he was sorely out of practice in the dating game. 

The bar managed a perfect balance between being large enough to comfortably fit all of the resort guests and small enough to still feel cozy. There was a distinct tropical theme, all light wooden furniture and various exotic fruit motifs throughout the decor. It was a bit gimmicky for Shiro’s tastes, but it was quiet and the bar stools were surprisingly comfortable. 

There were only two TVs behind the bar, both muted with captions scrolling across the screen. One was set to a football game Shiro had no interest in, and the other was set to a late night news station that he cared about even less. 

He let his gaze rove around the bar, trying his best not to be obvious as he scoped out potential dates. His options were dismally disappointing: most of the people present seemed to be paired off and quite a few of them were older than Shiro would have considered approaching anyway. Of the patrons not obviously coupled, none of the men were at all to Shiro’s tastes - either dressed in full business attire despite the heat and sand, or so drunk already at just past nine in the evening that they were having trouble staying in their seats. More than a little discouraged, Shiro turned his attention to the bartender, hoping he’d find himself a little less picky after a drink. 

He almost gasped aloud when he finally spotted the bartender a handful of seats down from where he was sitting. The man was 80% leg and all lean muscle, wearing tight jeans and a black button up shirt, rolled up to his elbows. His hair was in a messy dark brown braid trailing down past his shoulder blades, the ends dyed a fiery red where they poked out from the elastic band. He was arguing with a small group of young women, his handsomeness unmarred by the frustration on his face. 

Shiro swallowed hard and leaned more heavily onto the bartop. The room wasn’t especially loud, but it was still hard to make out the particulars of the conversation the man was having. 

“You can talk to my manager when she gets in tomorrow morning. I’m in charge during the night shift and I’m not putting that garbage on the TV. All the rooms have cable, go watch it there.” His voice was more annoyed than angry, and far deeper than Shiro would have expected. 

The women began to protest again and the bartender held up a hand to stop them, craning his head toward Shiro. “Manager gets here at ten. Take it up with her. This guy’s been waiting for me and you’re holding things up.” 

Shiro sat up straighter and tried to hide his amused smile as the man promptly turned away from the women and approached him. “Sorry about your wait, sir,” he practically purred. “What can I get for you?” 

The women grumbled and left the counter when it was clear they wouldn’t get what they wanted, but Shiro hardly noticed. The bartender’s eyes seemed to be tunneling into Shiro’s soul, such an inky blue they almost seemed to glow purple in the dim lighting. 

Shiro let his eyes flit down and back up the man’s body, the corner of his mouth curling up into as flirtatious a smile he could manage. “Your name, for starters.” 

“Keith,” he said with a grin, resting his elbows on the bar. “Yours?”

“Takashi,” Shiro replied. “But my friends call me Shiro.” 

Keith tilted his head towards the rows of bottles behind him, exposing the thick cords of muscle framing his neck. “So what can I get you, Shiro?” 

He pretended to think for a long moment, crossing his prosthetic arm over his chest and tapping his chin with his index finger. “I want something fruity,” he eventually decided, looking back into Keith’s eyes. “Something that’ll get me drunk without me tasting it.” 

Keith chuckled and the sound went right to Shiro’s gut, sending a shiver down his spine. “You want a frilly umbrella with that?” 

“I love frilly umbrellas,” Shiro answered without a hint of hesitation. 

Keith nodded, eyes still twinkling with mischief. “One fruity drink to knock you on your ass, plus umbrella, coming right up.” He winked and turned around to gather various liquors and syrups. 

Shiro was mesmerized, watching intently as Keith flipped bottles in the air to rest them on the bar and rolled a shaker across his shoulders. He filled a glass with ice and tossed it from one hand to the other, letting it whirl end over end before catching it and letting the cubes slide seamlessly into the shaker. 

The first bottle received little fanfare as Keith poured from it and set it to the side. The next bottle he grabbed by the neck and threw in the air, watching it do a full rotation before he caught it on the back of his hand and poured. Shiro couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle of amazement as Keith tossed the third bottle up and stuck his arm out, catching that one on the flat of his forearm. 

The tricks got more and more creative with each bottle Keith used, throwing them behind his back, catching them on his forehead and chin. Shiro felt drunk just watching them spin. He lost track of what was even going into the shaker, he was so transfixed on Keith’s performance. Finally, Keith rolled it down his arm from his shoulder to his finger tips, catching all of the liquid with the glass in his other hand. He caught the shaker before it could tumble to the floor and threw it behind his back without taking his eyes off of Shiro, smiling a small self-satisfied smile at the sound of the shaker and the ice clinking into the sink. 

Just when Shiro thought the show was finished, Keith grabbed a small napkin and tossed it in the air, letting it spin a few times at Shiro’s eye level until he caught it on the back of his hand and flipped it down to rest on the polished wood. He set the glass on top of the napkin and pulled an umbrella from a small container, using the pointed end to stab a cherry before delicately placing it to rest against the rim. 

Shiro grinned and shook his head in awe. “That was pretty impressive.” 

“Just wait ‘til you try the drink.” Keith smirked and popped a cherry into his mouth. 

Shiro held his breath and watched Keith’s cheeks hollow as he sucked on the fruit. Hardly a moment later Keith plucked the stem from between his teeth, neatly tied in a knot. He held Shiro’s gaze as he nimbly tossed it into the trash can. 

Mouth suddenly bone-dry, Shiro grabbed the glass and took a careful sip. It was fruity and light, with only the faintest burn from the absurd amount of alcohol he knew Keith had poured into it. He took a full gulp and grinned as warmth started to pool in his stomach. 

“That’s amazing, you’re an artist.” 

Keith’s face melted into a shy smile and he shrugged. Before he could add to the banter, an impatient  _ ahem _ from further down the bar interrupted him. He rolled his eyes and turned, posture stiffening. 

The same group of women from before were standing at the bar again. “You ordering something, or wasting my time whining about the TV again?” Keith crossed his arms and stared them down, waiting for a reply. 

“We want another pitcher of margaritas, unless we have to wait for your manager for that too?” Their apparent leader retorted, putting her hands on her hips. 

Keith rolled his eyes and grabbed a clean pitcher. He didn’t bother with any fancy tricks for the group, simply filling it by the book and handing it over. The woman took it wordlessly and stalked off back to her table, the others following closely behind. 

Shiro raised an eyebrow. “What was all that about?” He took another small sip, trying to pace himself on the strong drink. His face was already starting to heat up. 

Keith scoffed and grabbed a rag, wiping down the wood next to Shiro even though it was already pristine. “They’re mad because I wouldn’t change the channel to their trashy teen drama. It’s been like that every night since the cast showed up here. Can’t stand it.” 

He’d almost been able to forget about Adam with the distraction, but reality slammed back into place at the mention of his show. “I take you’re not a  _ Stream Valley _ fan, then?” 

Keith looked up at him skeptically. “Of course not. It’s a show about high school and all the actors are, like, twenty-five. It’s all nonsense.” He scrubbed furiously at an imaginary spot on the bar for a moment before stopping and looking back to Shiro suspiciously. “Don’t tell me you actually like it?” 

Shiro held his free hand up and shook his head. The room spun a little. “No, I totally agree with you. I can’t tell you how many episodes of that crap I’ve had to sit through pretending I didn’t want to rip my own eyes out.” 

The rag slid back behind the bar and all pretense of cleaning was tossed out the window as Keith leaned onto his elbow again. “Girlfriend really into it?” 

Shiro laughed quietly. “Boyfriend.” 

Keith’s face fell almost imperceptibly and Shiro cleared his throat. “Ex. Ex-boyfriend. For about six months now,” he corrected quickly. 

“Ah,” Keith said, nodding compassionately. “Been there. Sucks.” 

Shiro held up his glass as if in a toast before raising it to his lips. The sweet, fruity flavor went down as easy as water and only flakes of ice remained by the time he set it back down. 

He asked Keith for another and allowed himself to be dazzled by the show again, feeling the warm buzz already begin to spread from his stomach. Shiro was never much for small talk, but couldn’t help himself from asking Keith the standard barrage of questions in between customers and his other duties. 

He soon learned that Keith had grown up on the island, his mother owned the bar and his father was a retired firefighter. Island life was “fine, except for some of the tourists,” which was offered with a wink and another cocktail. He seemed hesitant to ask Shiro about himself, especially after learning Shiro was only planning to stay for a week, but that wasn’t as off-putting as it should have been. It was nice not to have to talk about himself after the long and draining tour, and he was enjoying listening to Keith’s stories about island life. 

“So, what are the rules on buying the bartender a drink?” Shiro asked, just the barest hint of a slur muddying his words. It had been a long time since he’d drank in earnest, and he belatedly remembered that he hadn’t eaten since before he’d gotten on the plane that morning. 

As if reading his mind, Keith reached under the bar and pulled out a bowl. He filled it with pretzels and slid it in front of Shiro. “The bartender likes whiskey.” 

Shiro smiled gratefully and popped a few of the salty bite-sized snacks into his mouth, seeming to consider Keith’s statement as he chewed. “Well go ahead and put one of those on my tab, then,” he said with a grin. 

Keith chuckled and poured two fingers of whiskey in a glass. Instead of drinking it right away, he filled a plastic cup with water and put it next to the pretzels. Shiro took it without comment, holding it up to clink against Keith’s glass, though it was more of a thud. They laughed together and slammed their drinks back. 

Glass and plastic hit the wooden bartop at nearly the same time and Shiro looked up at Keith’s face. Keith’s cheeks were faintly dusted with freckles, only barely visible with the flush that had come over his face. He was almost overcome with the urge to reach up and brush his thumb along the faint scar that ran down the right side of Keith’s face, disappearing under his jaw in the dim light. 

A few wisps of hair had come untucked from Keith’s braid and fell to the side. Almost without thinking, Shiro plucked one of the umbrellas from his small collection and licked the remaining alcohol from the pointed end. Slowly, he reached out and tucked the stray bangs behind Keith’s ear, pinning them in place with the umbrella. 

“There,” Shiro murmured, self-satisfaction brimming in his voice and smile. “Perfect.” 

The flush on Keith’s cheeks darkened and he batted Shiro’s hand away gently. “Ok, Casanova, I’m cutting you off.” 

Shiro shrugged and reached for his water cup, gently shaking it with a mockery of a sultry smile.

Keith rolled his eyes, but there was no malice behind it. He took the cup and refilled it, adding two of the tiny umbrellas to it. They laughed together again as Shiro tried to drink around them, narrowly avoiding putting his eye out as they slid around the rim. 

Things seemed to be going well until Keith abruptly excused himself and disappeared into the back room. Shiro sighed, certain he’d scared Keith away with his forwardness. Cursing himself, he pulled out his phone to check the time and winced when he saw how late it was. The bar would probably be closing soon, and Keith would be gone.

Keith returned a few minutes later to cash out the few patrons waiting by the register and warn the others that it was last call. When the line had died down, Keith returned to his spot in front of Shiro and chewed his bottom lip. 

Shiro raised an eyebrow. “Closing time?” He pulled out his wallet and handed Keith his card, but Keith didn’t take it. 

“Friend of mine is gonna be here in ten minutes. Said he’d close for me.” 

It took an embarrassingly long time for the implication to land in Shiro’s tipsy brain. “I’m in room 308,” he finally replied, the card in his outstretched hand shaking as a nervous tremor ran through him. 

Keith finally grabbed it. “308, got it.” 

A moment later, Keith returned with Shiro’s receipt. He added a big tip and left the signed copy next to the pile of glasses on the bar. He was about to stuff the customer copy into his pocket until he noticed the phone number scrawled neatly at the bottom. Smiling, he folded it gently and put it in his wallet next to his room key.

Shiro could hear his blood thrumming in his ears as he bypassed the elevator and took the stairs three at a time. It took several tries to get the door to read his card and let him inside. He paused with his hand on the handle, staring at the  _ do not disturb  _ sign he’d left hanging, assuming he’d sleep in the next morning. Surely Keith wouldn’t see it as a deterrent, he decided. 

The walk had only taken a few minutes and Shiro’s thoughts were racing. He hadn’t left much of a mess before heading to the bar, but he pushed his suitcase and guitar into a corner to make the room seem neater. Minutes ticked by in slow motion as he rushed through freshening up and debated whether or not to keep the curtains open until a soft series of knocks sounded on the door. 

Shiro let out a harsh breath and rolled his shoulders, bouncing on the balls of his feet to the door. He opened it quietly and rested his arm against the doorframe. 

“Long time no see,” Shiro said with a grin. “Come here often?” 

Keith rolled his eyes and ducked under Shiro’s arm into the room. He let out a low whistle as he approached the balcony and slid the door open. Shiro laughed and followed behind him out into the fresh sea air.

“Hell of a room. You some kind of bourgeois CEO type?” Keith accused, expression mostly joking. 

Shiro laughed and leaned up against the railing next to him. “Nope. Just a moderately successful indie musician. My band just finished a tour.” 

Keith nodded but didn’t speak for a long moment. “What do you play?” 

“Lead guitar and backup vocals. Sometimes the trumpet if we’re doing a ska throwback.” 

Keith laughed and slapped lightly at his arm. “Seriously?” 

Shiro shrugged and blushed. “What, is that really so weird?” He held his hands up and mimicked the motions of playing the trumpet while he pursed his lips and blew out the first few notes of a tune. 

“I can’t believe I’m about to hook up with the world’s hottest trumpet-playing dork.” 

Shiro’s blush deepened and he cleared his suddenly dry throat. He wanted to make a joke or reply with something suave, but Keith’s bluntness rattled him. 

Keith didn’t seem at all deterred, carefully pushing Shiro’s arm off the railing and sliding into his space. His lips pressed against Shiro’s, no harder than the gentle evening breeze. “Show me what your lips can do, trumpet boy,” he whispered against Shiro’s stunned mouth, letting his tongue flick out playfully. 

Shiro pressed back against him, groaning into Keith’s mouth as he plunged his tongue inside. His left hand tangled into Keith’s rapidly loosening braid and his prosthetic gripped at Keith’s lower back, pushing their hips together. The buzz of alcohol thrumming in his veins gave way to the new intoxication of Keith’s body melting perfectly against his. 

They stumbled sideways through the balcony door, unwilling to break their kiss. Keith’s hands ripped at the buttons on Shiro’s shirt as they made their way to the bedroom. The backs of Keith’s knees hit the plush mattress and he tottered backward before Shiro gently lowered him the rest of the way down. 

Shiro’s thighs coaxed Keith’s legs apart and he wrapped them around Shiro’s waist. They both shuddered at the electric contact of their hips grinding against each other. Quickly losing patience at Shiro’s pace, Keith surged up and rolled them over until he was planted on Shiro’s lap. 

He pulled away from Shiro’s mouth, gasping in a quick breath as he tugged his tight shirt up and over his head. His nimble fingers made quick work of the rest of Shiro’s buttons and wrestled the fabric off of Shiro’s heated skin. Keith slid back towards him and they rolled sideways, mouths finding each other again as they left a trail of clothing on and around the bed. 

Shiro let out a breathless chuckle as he found himself on his back again. “You’re on vacation,” Keith murmured against his lips, letting his mouth trail kisses down Shiro’s jaw to suck lightly on his neck. “Lay back and relax.” 

Shiro closed his eyes and did exactly that. 


	3. Chapter 3

Sunlight streamed in through the open curtains, Shiro could feel the warmth on his face, but the light pounding in his head made him reluctant to open his eyes. A tickle against his cheek made him twitch his nose, and he brought a hand up to wipe away the itch. Instead of connecting with his skin, his hand slid through a tangle of soft hair and his eyes flew open as he suddenly remembered what had happened the night before. 

Keith was still fast asleep, hair fanned out on the pillow next to Shiro’s. As consciousness slowly returned, Shiro realized their legs were tangled together and Keith was lying on his prosthetic. Shiro winced. He had no idea how Keith could possibly be comfortable with the hard metal digging into his back, but he didn’t seem to mind at all. 

His chest rose and fell in the steady rhythm of deep sleep, and Shiro found himself captivated by the sight. The slight upturn of his nose, the long lashes resting against sharp cheekbones, the curve of the long scar bending down the side of his face; he was beautiful. Shiro forgot his headache for a moment, only for it to return full force as he caught himself going mushy over this man he’d known for less than half a day. What was he doing? 

Just as Shiro’s thoughts began to spiral, Keith stirred. Those long lashes fluttered, giving Shiro just a second of warning before Keith’s eyes were open, staring right into his. They looked at each other for a long moment and Shiro’s breath caught in his throat. 

“Mmm,” Keith groaned. “G’morning.” He blinked a few times, long and slow, before a small, tired smile blossomed across his lips. 

Shiro couldn’t help but return the smile. “Morning,” he tried to reply just as cheerfully, but the momentary distraction of Keith’s awakening could only stave off his anxiety for so long. 

He cleared his throat and untangled himself from Keith’s limbs as gently as he could. He rolled his stiff right shoulder while angling it away from Keith, suddenly embarrassed about the jagged ring of scars where flesh met metal. Keith’s smile faded into a smirk as Shiro flushed from the tips of his ears to the hollow of his throat under Keith’s gaze.

“Listen, this is, I mean...” Shiro rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably and pooled the sheets over his waist. “I don’t usually do...” He waved back and forth between them. “This.” 

Keith raised an eyebrow and sat up, but his smirk didn’t falter. “This?” he asked innocently. 

Shiro sighed. “One night stands. If that’s what you meant for this to be.” He cursed himself for the way his voice cracked and how he couldn’t seem to find the right words. “I like you, hanging out with you. I mean at the bar, it was fun. But I’m only here for a week, so…” 

Keith laughed as he trailed off. “This isn’t exactly my first rodeo, Shiro. You’re here for a week, let’s not worry about what happens after.” 

Shiro blinked in surprise. That hadn’t been what he was expecting at all. “Yeah, that.” He swallowed past the confusing lump in his throat. “Good idea.” 

Keith smiled patiently at him and waited almost a full minute through the awkward silence before chuckling again. “My shift doesn’t start until 6, so… you wanna hang out or something?” 

“Yeah!” Shiro winced at how eager he sounded. “I mean, yeah, I don’t really have anything planned, so if you know something cool or… something.” 

Somehow Keith’s laughter didn’t feel like he was laughing  _ at  _ Shiro, more  _ with  _ him, though that might have just been wishful thinking on Shiro’s part. Without preamble, Keith leaned in and pressed a kiss to the corner of Shiro’s very surprised mouth. 

“I’m sorry,” Shiro murmured. “I’ve been out of the dating game a while. I’m… rusty.” 

Keith grinned and pressed a kiss to the bridge of his nose, right along his scar before hopping out of bed. “You’re perfect. Also I’m starving.” 

_ Perfect.  _ Keith said it so offhandedly, but Shiro could feel the explosion of butterflies in his stomach, as well as his protesting insides agreeing with Keith. 

“There’s this place outside of resort territory. Greasiest slop on the island. Perfect for a hangover,” Keith explained as he milled about the room collecting his clothes. 

Shiro’s stomach finally growled, spurring him up and out of bed to get dressed. “Do you wanna shower or...?” 

Keith stopped in the middle of zipping his pants and, to Shiro’s surprise, a faint blush spilled across his cheeks. “Rather do breakfast first,” he said quietly, finishing up with his zipper and pulling his shirt on over his head. “Shower sounds too distracting for how hungry I am.” 

Heat filled Shiro’s face at the explanation and he nodded. “Yeah,” he said with a chuckle, shouldering past Keith toward the bathroom. 

He took a few minutes to freshen up and calm down, splashing cool water on his heated face.  _ It’s just breakfast. We’re just having fun. It’s fine,  _ Shiro told himself as he wrung his knuckles in the hand towel. 

A little calmer, he set the towel down before his prosthetic could tear it in half and went to rejoin Keith in the main room. Shiro didn’t see him at first, but the barest flash of unruly black caught his eye through the window and he realized Keith must have gone out to the balcony. 

The slatted wood was chilly on his bare feet as he stepped through the still-open sliding door. Keith’s back was to him, long loose hair flying in the breeze, with his face turned up to the sun like a flower seeking warmth and light. Shiro wished he could take a picture. 

“Ready to go?” Keith asked suddenly, not bothering to turn around or even open his eyes. 

Shiro nodded and mentally chided himself. “Just need shoes,” he finally choked out. 

Keith turned his head and tossed Shiro a half smile that had his heart racing all over again. “Should go before everything gets all crowded.” 

He brushed past Shiro and back inside, pausing in the middle of the living room where he’d hastily pulled off his shoes the night before. Shiro chuckled fondly at the hazy memory as he found his own shoes nearby and slid them on. After a quick check for keys, wallets, and phones, Keith led them back toward the bar. 

Keith pulled a keyring out of his pocket and nodded to the alley that had somehow looked much less sketchy at night. 

“Want me to drive or you wanna walk? It’s about two miles.” 

Shiro’s head pulsed at the same time as his stomach growled. “Don’t judge me, but I’m too hungover to walk,” he replied with a guilty laugh. 

Keith laughed too and shot Shiro a grateful smile. “God, me too.”

Despite the overflowing dumpster, the alley wasn’t as creepy as Shiro had expected once they entered the shadowed area that was too dark to see from the sidewalk. Keith walked up to what appeared to be a large, rumpled bag behind the dumpster and whipped it away with a flourish. 

Shiro’s eyes went wide as he took in the sleek, black-and-red motorcycle Keith revealed. He didn’t know much about the actual machine, but that didn’t stop the blood from rushing with equal speed to his face and below his belt at the thought of riding on it with his arms and legs wrapped around Keith’s slender frame. 

Keith smirked, taking his time folding the tarp small enough to stuff into the storage compartment. “Take it you’re into motorcycles then…” 

Shiro cleared his throat and tried to will away the blush on his face. “Uhh... “ 

Their eyes met for a brief moment and Shiro let out a nervous chuckle that turned into an indignant huff. “Yeah, okay, you caught me.” 

Keith grinned and walked the bike out to the middle of the alley, tossing a leg over to situate himself on the seat in a fluid, practiced motion. Shiro knew his mouth was hanging open ever so slightly, but couldn’t seem to remember how to close it. 

“Lucky for you,” Keith all but purred, “I’m into guys who are into motorcycles.” 

Shiro snorted out a laugh and clambered on. At first he perched on the back of the seat, trying to hide his body’s reaction to the bike and the proximity, but Keith relaxed into his embrace like they’d ridden together a thousand times and it emboldened him to scoot closer, wrapping himself around Keith’s much smaller frame. 

“Hold on tight,” Keith said, twisting the throttle. 

Shiro did as he asked, wrapping his arms even tighter around Keith’s waist just as Keith lifted his feet and sent them shooting out of the alley. Part of Shiro wanted to slam his eyes shut but the larger part couldn’t even conceive of doing such a thing. They flew through small side streets at breakneck speed as Keith expertly wove in and out of what little traffic littered them. Shiro’s heart felt like it was rearranging his ribcage as Keith accelerated through turns and leaned them over far enough that Shiro could have reached out and touched the ground. 

Shiro’s heart was pounding and his wind-battered cheeks were sore from the wide grin on his face by the time Keith pulled them smoothly into the parking lot of a tiny diner. It took far too long for Shiro to realize Keith had cut the engine and was waiting for him to slide off the bike so they could go inside. 

He laughed and shook his head as his shoes hit the pavement and his knees wavered. Keith was right behind him, an arm already casually tossed around his waist. 

“First time on a motorcycle?” He could hear just the faintest bit of teasing at the edge of Keith’s tone. 

“No, just...” Shiro shook his head again and let Keith lead him across the most empty parking lot while the ground took its sweet time stabilizing under his feet. “It’s been a while.” 

Keith didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to; the smirk on his face said enough. An odd sensation overtook Shiro then, not quite deja vu, but a strange familiarity that he couldn’t quite place. He knew that Keith was virtually a stranger, but for some reason the light teasing and the hand resting on his hip seemed natural, like they were somehow old friends meeting up after a long time apart. 

Keith dropped his arm back to his side and pushed the door open, holding it as Shiro walked through. The first thing Shiro saw was a woman nearly as tall as himself, with a friendly smile and a bundle of curly black hair secured with an orange headband. She greeted Keith warmly as he steered Shiro to a table by a window. Shiro sat down and smiled while Keith hugged her and kissed her cheek before joining him at the table. 

“Who’s your handsome new  _ friend,  _ Keith?” She asked with a knowing smile, pulling the pencil from behind her ear and digging a small notepad from her apron. 

Keith rolled his eyes, but the tips of his ears flushed a pale pink. “Shiro, this is Mrs. G. Mrs. G, Shiro.”

“Nice to meet you,” Shiro said, his smile widening. 

She gave him a wink. “You too, dear. I hope Keith has been treating you well.” She leaned in a little closer and blocked her mouth with her notepad. “He can be a bit of a hellion, but he’s a sweet boy,” she finished in a stage whisper. 

Keith groaned and rolled his eyes. “I’ve been a perfect gentleman. Mom says she needs to reschedule poker night, by the way.” 

Mrs. G swatted Keith lightly on the arm. “She does not, you’re just trying to change the subject! She hasn’t rescheduled a poker game in twelve years.” She shook her head and wagged her pencil at Keith. “Now tell me how you two met.”

Shiro couldn’t help the laugh that burbled out from his chest, though he tried to disguise it as a cough. 

“Church,” Keith deadpanned, crossing his arms. 

Mrs. G rolled her eyes. “Fine, fine. I hope you were very safe  _ at church.”  _

Keith kept his stare blank as she held his gaze expectantly. Shiro was still struggling to contain a fit of nervous laughter at the absurdity of the situation. It felt like an eternity before the door to the kitchen swung open and a young man emerged carrying three large plates of food on his arms. 

“Ma, stop menacing the guests,” he said cheerfully, kissing her on the cheek as he set down two plates on Keith’s side and one on Shiro’s. “Go rest your feet, I’ve got this.” 

Mrs. G said something in a language that Shiro didn’t recognize aimed vaguely in Keith’s direction before turning to Shiro. “Enjoy the food, Shiro. It was so nice to meet you.” 

“I will, thank you ma’am. Nice meeting you, too,” Shiro replied reflexively. 

The young man beside her raised an eyebrow that had Shiro gulping for some reason, suddenly feeling too warm under the judgemental gaze. But the appraisal only lasted a second before he was grinning and nudging Keith further down the bench seat so he could join them. 

Keith sighed and nodded toward the man as he picked up his fork. “Shiro, this is Hunk. He’s the best cook on the island.” 

Shiro laughed uncomfortably as Keith picked up his fork and dug into the mix of rice, gravy, some kind of meat, eggs, and who knew what else on his plate. 

“And I am also his very best friend in the entire world. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Hunk had a smile just as friendly and warm as his mother’s, but Shiro couldn’t help but feel like he was being sized up. It was more than a little unnerving. 

“Nice to meet you,” Shiro said again for a lack of anything more profound to say. “So uh, what is… this?” He gestured down to his plate of gravy-laden mush. 

Hunk’s smile widened. “First time here, huh? It’s Loco Moco, local delicacy. It’s basically a full English breakfast, but better.” 

Shiro grabbed his fork and poked at the pile, feeling a little more adventurous as he saw Keith all but shoveling the meal into his mouth. He tried to get a good mixture of the ingredients on his fork in the smallest configuration possible before taking a tentative bite. 

“Wow, Hunk, this is incredible!” Shiro hadn’t realized just how hungry he was until the delicious savory mash flooded his taste buds. 

Hunk beamed and took a few heaping bites himself. “It’s nowhere near as good as gram’s faiai eleni but it’s the best we’ve got out here.” 

Shiro nodded politely, trying his best to pay attention as Hunk explained the various pros and cons of each dish in between bites, but the food was too delicious to divert much of his focus. Unsurprisingly, Keith finished eating first and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. It was somehow endearing even though Shiro felt like he should have found it gross. Adam certainly would never have wiped  _ his  _ mouth on his sleeve. 

“Thanks buddy,” Keith said with a slap on Hunk’s shoulder. 

Hunk nodded and choked down a half-chewed mouthful. “You can make it up to me by not skipping practice again tomorrow. It’s kinda hard to play without our lead guitar.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be there,” Keith dismissed with a wave of his hand.

At exactly the same time, Shiro’s eyes went wide and he said, “You play guitar?” 

Keith smiled sheepishly at him and nodded. It was interesting to see Keith embarrassed, Shiro decided. He returned the small smile. 

“Great!” Hunk added, his enthusiasm hiding an undercurrent of deviousness. “You can come with Keith to our band’s jam session tomorrow.” 

Keith turned and glowered at him, cheeks blooming from pink to red, but Hunk was already sliding toward him to get out of the seat and Keith had to awkwardly sidle out. 

“7:00 sharp, don’t be late!” Hunk called with a wave of his hand as he headed back to the kitchen. 

“That was… odd,” Shiro said after a long moment of uncomfortable silence. “How did he know to have food ready for you?” 

Keith’s flush darkened and his posture stiffened. “Probably heard my bike,” he mumbled. “Anyway, so we both play guitar." 

The dismissal and abrupt topic change took Shiro aback for a moment, but he loved to talk about his music so he figured it could wait for another time. “Yeah, I’ve played ever since I was little. You?” 

Keith nodded. “Pop taught me when I was a kid, been playing ever since.” 

“For me it was my grandpa,” Shiro replied with fond, faraway smile.

Keith’s defensively rigid shoulders softened and the corner of his mouth tugged up just the slightest bit. “Tell me about him.” 

“Oh man, where do I start?” Shiro asked, a dry, half-chuckle bubbling up from his chest. “He was the best. My parents worked a lot and he was retired, so I spent every day after school at his house. He taught me Japanese, piano, guitar, and a million other things.” He paused for a moment to sit with those fond childhood memories. “Never could seem to get the finer points of cooking into my thick skull, though.” 

Keith laughed and leaned his elbows on the table. “Not much of a cook, then?” 

Shiro shook his head and grinned sheepishly. “I’m not  _ hopeless _ but let’s just say I tend to stick closely to recipes. Especially recipes that don’t involve the oven.” 

They laughed together for a moment and Shiro realized it was the happiest he’d been in months. Even with the tour and the boost in sales and huge bump in downloads, everything had been just a little bit tainted by the recent breakup. But now that bitterness finally seemed to be abating. Shiro was certain it was just the relief of once again being intimate with someone, anyone, but he found himself glad it was Keith despite how little he actually knew the man. 

“What about you? You don’t strike me as the master chef type,” Shiro prodded, raising one side of his lips in a flirtatious smirk. 

Keith looked absolutely scandalized. His eyebrows shot up and he clapped a hand to his chest. “I am an excellent cook, thank you very much.” 

They both burst into laughter at the feigned outrage. “Okay, well now you have to prove it.” 

“Deal,” Keith replied without hesitation. 

Shiro laughed again and the conversation flowed on. Soon enough they were talking about all of the things Shiro absolutely had to do while he was in town, and Keith suggested a hike a ways off the standard tourist trails with an incredible view. Shiro had never been much of a hiker, but he couldn’t pass up such a rare opportunity and they agreed to go as soon as they finished their meal. 

* * *

The sun was high overhead and beating down on Shiro’s rapidly reddening shoulders, but the expanse of beautiful trees and glistening blue water kept him from worrying about the sunburn.. Keith was a few strides ahead of him, leading him up a winding dirt path tamped into the seaside cliffs by the countless travelers that had walked it before them. His long hair was in a ponytail at the base of his neck, the few wisps that had escaped the elastic blowing in the breeze. He was almost as gorgeous a sight as the scenery around them. 

It was strange how at ease he felt considering how short a time they’d known each other. Shiro was always the type to make acquaintances quickly but usually took his time to let friendships grow more intimate. Now he was lost in thought, examining what it was about Keith that had quietly and efficiently dismantled all of his walls without Shiro’s notice.

Keith turned and flashed Shiro a smile that sent his heart slamming against his ribs. Pointing a short way ahead of them, Keith said, “Once we get over that incline, we’ll be at the cliffs. Can’t wait to see what you think.” 

Shiro smiled back at him and took a few steps closer, leaning in with a conspiratorial smile. “I’ll race you,” he said in stage-whisper before taking off down the trail. 

“Cheater!” Keith yelled with an incredulous laugh before taking off after him. 

They were both in sleeveless shirts, swimming trunks, and flip flops. It was inadvisable gear for hiking, but at least it meant they could spend the rest of the afternoon on the beach without having to carry extra clothes or go back to the hotel to change. The flip flops slowed them both down, rubber slapping at their heels as they tried to run normally while keeping the sandals from flying off their feet, but Keith was clearly faster. Even with the head start, he’d nearly caught up to Shiro by the time they rounded the curve in the path. 

The final stretch up to the cliff zig-zagged between several waist-high rocks. Keith’s long, slender legs may have been built for speed, but Shiro was all muscle and he knew it. Without a second thought, he leapt over the rocks like they were harmless hurdles on a flat, paved running track and skittered to a stop far too close to the edge of the cliffs. He turned and laughed, flashing a grin at Keith who had slowed to a stop a few feet away. 

Keith was laughing too, and shaking his head. “You’re kind of a crazy bastard, you know that?” 

It should have been an insult, but the easy smile and the way Keith’s deep blue eyes glittered in the sunlight like the ocean all around them made it feel like the best compliment Shiro had ever gotten. The corners of his lips tugged up and he almost forgot to breathe. 

“That’s what they tell me,” Shiro said. 

Keith chuckled quietly and scanned the horizon, enjoying the view from the outcropping as he slowly approached Shiro where he stood close to the edge. “When I was a kid, I used to come up here with my pop and we’d jump off into the water.” He paused and looked down toward the water far below. “Seemed a lot less scary when I was nine.” 

Shiro grinned and turned around, a hint of vertigo swirling his vision and sending adrenaline pumping throughout his body. “I’ll jump if you will.” 

Keith didn’t answer right away, instead kneeling down and squinting to better survey the rocks along the bottom of the cliff. 

“It’s not  _ that  _ high,” Shiro said, leaning over as well. 

Keith must not have been expecting him to be so close or to speak so loudly, because he grunted in surprise as he jerked back from the ledge. The movement was abrupt enough to dislodge the rocks he was standing on and send himself sliding down the side of the cliff. Shiro gasped and leaned to catch Keith, but he was too slow. All he could do was watch as Keith fell toward the rocks below.

But before he dropped past the overhang into freefall, Keith was able to grab hold of the thick vines sprouting out of the cliffside. He ended up dangling about ten feet below the cliff edge, clinging to a makeshift net of greenery. 

“Are you okay?” Shiro shouted, laying down on the dirt and reaching toward him, though he knew Keith was much too far down to reach. 

To Shiro’s surprise and delight, Keith laughed. “Yeah, yeah I’m good.” Keith looked around and then back up to Shiro. “Not sure what to do here, though.” 

Shiro thought for a moment, looking down at the water and then back up to Keith’s position. “You could push off the side of the cliff and jump down. You should be able to clear the rocks.” 

They weren’t so far away that Shiro couldn’t see Keith roll his eyes. “Think you could find something up there to give me a hand up?” 

A thought struck Shiro and he grinned, holding up a finger and sidling away from the ledge. He stood and gripped at his right shoulder, twisting the interlocks and letting his prosthetic slide free. Carefully leaning over again, he waved the arm up over his head in his left hand. 

“I… did not mean literally,” Keith said with a shoulder-shaking laugh. The vines shifted as his body rocked and he slid another few feet down the cliff. 

Shiro cringed as Keith skidded to a stop and his flip flops drifted lazily down without him into the water far below. He leaned over and reached out with his prosthetic, stretching as far as he could. It barely reached Keith’s fingertips. 

“It’s not gonna work,” Keith called up to him with a sigh. “Looks like we’re both jumping.” 

Without giving Shiro much of a chance to react, Keith set the flats of his shoeless feet against the side of the cliff and pushed off. Shiro watched in awe as he twisted in the air, spinning effortlessly into a perfect swan dive. He barely made a splash as he plummeted into the water. 

Shiro watched, holding his breath as he waited for Keith to emerge. Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime but could only have been half a minute, Keith’s upper body split the surface and he hollered triumphantly, waving a flip flop in each hand over his head. 

“Your turn!” Keith yelled, his voice barely audible from so far away. 

Shiro chuckled in relief and stood up again, reattaching his arm. It would be a nightmare to clean all the sand and grit and salt out of it, but he knew what he’d signed up for when he decided to take a beach vacation. He kicked off his flip flops and tied them to his trunks with the string before taking a deep breath and four long strides to the edge of the cliff. 

The ground fell away under his bare feet and Shiro flailed his arms and legs a few times as he got his bearings. He only had a moment to look down and assure himself that he’d clear the rocks and spot Keith waiting for him in the water before he clamped his legs together and crossed his arms over his chest. An instant later, he slammed into the water and pushed a harsh breath out of his nose. The saltwater stung his eyes, but he couldn’t help opening them and looking around as soon as he slowed. 

It was beautiful. A school of brightly colored fish swam away from all the ruckus he’d made on his landing and the water was clear enough to see the sandy bottom far below him. Crabs and other small creatures skittered around the rocks amongst the tumult and a tiny layer of algae covered the rocks along the cliffs. 

Shiro wanted to look around more, but his lungs were protesting their extended lack of air, so he kicked up towards the sunshine beaming down on him from the surface. He burst through with a splash, gasping and laughing as he treaded water. Keith swam toward him, wearing his sandals on his hands and using them like flippers. 

“That was awesome!” Shiro panted, cheeks burning from his wide grin. 

Keith let go of his shoes and wrapped his arms around Shiro’s shoulders, his legs tangling around Shiro’s hips as he pulled him in for a deep kiss. They dipped in the water for a moment before Shiro’s brain caught up with him and he kicked his legs harder to keep them afloat. Keith’s tongue slid into his mouth, the sharp, salty taste making his adrenaline-fueled heart pound even harder. 

He wrapped his arms around Keith’s small waist and pressed him close. The sea was slightly chilly but Keith’s body all around him kept Shiro warm. His lungs protested again, and he had to lean back and suck in a desperate gasp of air. 

Keith didn’t try to let go or swim away, and Shiro found himself beyond grateful. There was something he couldn’t place about how it felt to have Keith smiling in his arms surrounded by so much beauty. 

“What was that for?” Shiro asked quietly once they’d both caught their breath. 

Keith shrugged and leaned in to press his lips softly to the tip of Shiro’s nose. “Just seemed right,” he said, finally letting go and nodding back to the shore. “Come on, let’s grab some water and find you some sunscreen, you’re gonna be a tomato if we stay out here much longer.” 

Shiro laughed and nodded, following Keith’s lead back to the shore. They both realized Keith had abandoned his flip flops to their impromptu make out session as they struggled through the sticky sand at the shoreline. Shiro offered to carry Keith up to the convenience shop farther along the beach, but Keith had just laughed and slapped at his arm, dramatically proclaiming them a sacrifice to the ocean. 

They made their way to the store still laughing and talking about all of the fun things there were to do at the beach and the surrounding area. Keith found replacement shoes quickly and helped Shiro pick out the best sunscreen along with a few exorbitantly-priced bottles of water. The waterproof bag Shiro had stuffed into his trunk pockets had thankfully held, keeping his wallet and phone dry, and he paid for all of their items before Keith could protest. 

“You paid for breakfast,” Shiro explained with a guilty smile as Keith glared at him good-naturedly. 

Keith was mid-reply when the tinkle of the bell at the front of the store and another voice caught Shiro’s attention. It seemed oddly familiar but he couldn’t place it. 

“Hey babe, isn’t that your friend from the hotel? Takashi, uh, Shiro?”

Upon hearing his name, Shiro’s heart plummeted into his stomach. Just as he feared, Adam and Curtis were standing in the doorway. 


	4. Chapter 4

The restaurant wasn’t crowded, but Shiro still felt smothered. He couldn’t believe he’d agreed to Curtis’s lunch invitation out of politeness. Even more unfathomable was Adam’s lack of protest, which Shiro had been desperately counting on. Keith was seated beside Shiro and seemed to have caught on to how uncomfortable the situation was, though he didn’t yet know the reason. Shiro was beyond thankful for the small comfort of Keith’s hand lightly resting on his thigh. 

Adam and Curtis were seated across from them with their chairs pushed just a little too closely together. The silence was deafening. Finally, Shiro couldn’t take it anymore and said the only thing he could think of. “So, Curtis. What do you do for a living?” He tried to shovel as much cheeriness as possible into his voice and his fake smile. 

Curtis didn’t seem to notice the awkwardness as he looked up from his phone and beamed at Shiro’s question. “Oh, I’m a consulting actuarial scientist. It’s so rewarding!” 

Shiro turned his head slightly, catching the sideways glance Keith sent him. He looked just as puzzled as Shiro did. 

“Gonna be real with you, Curt, I never finished high school. Is that some kind of aquatic biology thing?” Keith asked just as Shiro was scrambling to come up with a way to get more detail without admitting he had no idea what it meant either. 

Adam’s eyes widened and cast a judgmental grimace across the table. Shiro rested his hand atop Keith’s and gave it a light squeeze. 

Curtis laughed and waved his hand. “Oh no, nothing as boring as all that! We use advanced statistics, financial analytics, and the most sophisticated market models on the planet to advise corporations and private investors about how to maximally reduce risk with respect to their investments and purchases!” 

Shiro felt himself bite back a yawn at the explanation, grabbing his glass of water and taking a long sip until the urge left him. Keith furrowed his brows and nodded. 

“Okay, so you’re like a total math whiz,” Keith said thoughtfully. 

Curtis flushed a little and Shiro found his own cheeks heating in what must have been misplaced second-hand embarrassment. “Well I don’t like to toot my own horn, but…” Curtis trailed off with a laugh and pumped his hand in the air like he was pulling on the horn of a semi-truck, whistling out a quiet  _ toot toot  _ as he did so. 

Shiro didn’t have to look up to know that Adam was also staring at the exact center of the table in wide-eyed horror. He wasn’t sure which of them had gotten it from the other, but after four years together, neither of them could break the habit when they were embarrassed. Keith, on the other hand, was chuckling fondly and sipping at his beer. 

“That’s awesome, man. Glad you’re doing what you love.” He set the bottle back on the table and slouched in his chair. “What about you, Alex? Shiro hasn’t said hardly anything about you.” 

Shiro squeezed Keith’s leg tighter and coughed to disguise the burst of laughter he couldn’t choke off. He pounded his chest briefly and took a sip of water as the rest of the table stared at him. “Sorry, wrong pipe,” he offered in a hoarse voice. 

Adam rolled his eyes at Shiro’s antics, clearly not buying his ruse. “It’s  _ Adam,”  _ he corrected with barely concealed malice. “And I’m an actor. You might have noticed my face on all the posters plastered everywhere.” 

“Huh,” Keith said with a nod. Shiro was beyond impressed with his poker face. “Well don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll be Leo DiCaprio famous before you know it.” 

Adam glared and snapped his jaw shut with an audible click. Clearing his throat and leaning over the table, he composed himself before asking, “Well, what do you do, Keith?” 

Keith picked up his beer again and smiled. “Part time bartender, occasional volunteer firefighter, and full time beach bum,” he replied proudly. 

Shiro raised an eyebrow. “Keith’s just being modest, he’s also in a local band. Lead guitar.” 

Adam barely managed to bite back a scowl, but Shiro recognized the beginning of the familiar expression. “Oh how fun for the both of you.” Sarcasm oozed from his mouth. 

“Oh wow, that’s so exciting,” Curtis said with all the genuineness Adam had lacked. “Aren’t you in a band, too, Shiro?” 

Shiro smiled and carefully took another drink of his water as the waiter approached with their food. “Yeah, I’m the front man for Seam Ripper. We just finished our first big tour a couple weeks ago.” The swell of pride in his chest at Curtis’s delighted expression temporarily took the edge off Adam’s attempt to ruin the meal for all of them with his bad attitude. 

“Oh, is that why you’ve deigned to leave your recording studio for once?” Adam mumbled under his breath. 

Keith raised an eyebrow at Shiro and looked back to Adam. Shiro watched in horror as all the pieces clicked into place in Keith’s mind. 

“Shiro loves traveling,” Keith said authoritatively despite Shiro having never implied anything of the sort. “He just prefers vacations where he doesn’t have to compete with teenage girls for a man’s attention.”

Adam and Keith locked eyes as Shiro tried to keep a triumphant smirk from twisting his features. 

“This is really delicious!” Curtis suddenly exclaimed, drawing the three sets of eyes from their silent battle. “Want a bite, babe?” 

Adam smiled sweetly and nodded, turning to lock eyes with Shiro as he leaned in to take a bite off Curtis’s fork. Shiro picked up a forkful of his own meal and held it up for Keith to eat. 

Keith frowned and looked at Shiro skeptically, rolling his eyes as Shiro silently pled with him to play along. He took the proffered bite and make an exaggerated noise of approval as he chewed it. 

After a few more painful minutes of increasingly competitive boyfriend-feeding, Keith finally stood with an ear-splitting shriek of wood on tile as the chair dragged behind him. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Bathroom, be back in a sec.” 

Shiro watched him go and debated following, but Curtis drew his attention just as he’d decided he should. 

“Since you guys are both so into music, maybe we should check out that bar downtown with all the live bands? Something about fish?” He furrowed his brow and absently pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he tried to remember. 

Shiro wanted to object, to come with any excuse to not spend any more time with Adam than he’d accidentally backed himself into, but nothing came to mind. 

“Something about an albatross?” Curtis continued, oblivious to both Shiro and Adam’s discomfort. 

Keith joined them again, much more carefully scooting his chair back under the table this time. Shiro was disappointed that he didn’t reach out to put his hand back on Shiro’s thigh. 

“Oh Keith,” Curtis snapped his fingers as though a brilliant idea had just struck him. “You’re a local! What’s that fish bar that has all the live music?” 

Keith paled. “It’s called  _ The Acoustic Albatross,”  _ he murmured, keeping his eyes on his plate. 

“That’s it!” Curtis exclaimed. “We should all go there tonight! It’ll be so fun.” 

“Uhh,” Shiro started, hoping if he made noise and drew attention to himself that his brain would pick up the slack and think of something. He was unfortunately disappointed. 

“Can’t,” Keith replied shortly. “Working tonight. Plus I’m not… yeah I can’t go there.” 

His voice took on an edge of uncharacteristic bitterness that made Shiro want to ask what had happened, but Curtis beat him to it with characteristic friendly curiosity. Keith just looked more uncomfortable as he deflected the question, and Shiro resolved not to pry. He reached out and threaded his fingers with Keith’s in what he hoped was a soothing gesture. 

“You know, we should probably get going. Keith needs to get back and shower before his shift,” Shiro interrupted Curtis’s stream of suggestions for alternate activities. 

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Curtis agreed. “Thank you both for having lunch with us! It was so great to hang out with you. Next time you’re off work we’ll have to do this again.” 

Keith and Shiro both nodded politely as Keith tried in vain to flag down their waiter for the bill. 

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Adam interrupted. “Lunch is on me. I wouldn’t want you to be late for work.” 

Shiro turned to look at him and was surprised to see no hint of smugness in his eyes. “Thanks, Adam,” he all but whispered. Keith repeated the gratitude for the kind offer. 

Adam shrugged dismissively. “See you guys around,” he said with the most fake enthusiasm Shiro had ever heard. 

The walk back to Keith’s bike was quiet and uncomfortable. Keith didn’t say anything as he slid onto the seat, and he barely waited for Shiro to settle in before rocketing back down the road. It was a short drive but it felt much longer. Shiro wondered if he’d ruined this budding fling before it had really had a chance to get started. 

They parked in the alley and walked back up to Shiro’s hotel room without speaking. Anxiety was pulsing in Shiro’s chest as he shut the door behind them. The tiny  _ click  _ seemed to echo. 

“So how long were you and Adam together?” Keith asked quietly. 

Shiro let out a long sigh. “Four years.” 

Keith nodded. “That was really weird and shitty. I like hanging out with you, but I’m not gonna be your slutty trophy you wave around in his face because you wanna win the breakup.” 

“Keith,” Shiro murmured, unsure of what he wanted to say. “I’m sorry I put you in that situation. I like hanging out with you too. I don’t know why I acted like that, he just brings out the worst in me.” 

Keith sighed and shrugged. “It happens. You can make it up to me in the shower.” 

Shiro blinked at the abrupt insinuation, but nodded and followed obediently as Keith smirked and headed toward the bathroom. 

* * *

Shiro flopped down onto the bed with a sigh. Keith had only just left but Shiro found himself already missing the warmth at his side. He shoved the feeling down and sat up, shaking his head to clear it of the thought. For lack of anything better to do, he pulled off his shirt and detached his prosthetic, getting down to the unpleasant business of clearing all the nooks and crannies of salt and grime from the day’s activities. 

It didn’t take nearly as long as he’d anticipated, and when he was done Shiro clicked the attachment back into place with a sigh. He had resolved not to bother Keith at work again, so he picked up his guitar and started running through a few of his favorite songs. The way his metal thumb reverberated against the strings used to embarrass him, but Shiro had grown to love it, leaning into the unusual sounds he was uniquely capable of making. It set his music apart from the hundreds of other bands all vying for superstardom and it made Shiro’s chest swell with pride at how far he and his friends had come. 

He lost himself in his guitar for a few hours, working through the new songs he was elated to show the band as soon as he got home. The thought of going home sent a pang of regret to the pit of his stomach and Shiro sighed as he grabbed his phone to check the time. Keith would be getting off work soon and Shiro had to resist the urge to text him. 

Shiro’s phone buzzed as soon as he set it down and he hastily retrieved it. Of course it was Keith, asking if Shiro was still awake and whether or not he wanted company. With a guilty smile, Shiro replied that he’d love some company and set about tidying the room until Keith arrived. 


	5. Chapter 5

Shiro and Keith spent all night and much of the next morning in bed, though they didn’t sleep much. They ordered room service and Shiro didn’t bother to put a shirt on when it arrived, opting instead to answer the door in his swimming trunks. The young man delivering their lunch wore a strange look on his face, but Shiro didn’t realize why until Keith pointed out the mess Shiro had neglected to clean off his pecs. The poor kid handed over the food and scurried away, probably traumatized. 

Shiro easily laughed off the embarrassment and enjoyed the meal in bed, joking and chatting with Keith while they ate. As the afternoon wore on and their lust was temporarily sated, they took an uneventful shower and crawled back into bed. Nothing good was on TV, and Shiro was especially annoyed to stumble across a rerun of _Stream Valley_ as he flipped the channels. Keith jokingly suggested watching it, which kicked off a minor pillow-based scuffle that ended in a lazy makeout session.

The kissing turned into groping, and Shiro was debating if he had the strength for another round when Keith pulled away to retrieve his buzzing phone. 

“Sorry, gotta take this,” Keith grumbled, grabbing his phone from the nightstand and heading into the other room. 

Shiro tried not to eavesdrop, picking up his phone and replying to all of the texts he’d been neglecting the past few days instead. He could still hear Keith’s hushed, agitated voice, but couldn’t pick out individual words. The call didn’t last long, and Keith returned with a dubious expression. 

“Hey, you remember Hunk? Forgot I told him I’d be at practice tonight…” Keith trailed off and rubbed his bare foot along the plush carpet. “You don’t really have to go, s’probably gonna be boring.” 

Shiro smiled fondly. Keith was a strange man - not at all embarrassed to be completely naked, but seemingly shy at the thought of Shiro hearing his band play. 

“If you don’t want me to go, I don’t mind staying here. But…” Shiro stood and walked around the bed to where Keith stood, tipping his chin up and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I would love to hear you play.” 

Keith’s face flushed and he jerked his head away from the intimate contact. Shiro worried he’d stepped over a line as Keith hurriedly got dressed, pulling his work clothes from the night before from the pile where they’d fallen. Shiro quickly pulled on a clean outfit as well and followed as Keith rushed to the door, intent on at least getting a goodbye kiss before Keith fled. 

“You should uh,” Keith mumbled, swallowing thickly. “You should bring your guitar. It’d be cool to play with you.” 

Shiro’s cheeks burst into an excited grin and he hurried back into the bedroom, quickly tossing his guitar into its case and throwing the strap over his shoulder.

It was a little awkward wrestling with the wobbling guitar case as Keith drove them to Hunk’s house. Thankfully, Keith seemed sympathetic to his plight, or was dreading going to practice, and drove much more slowly and carefully than he had the last few times Shiro had been on his bike. The sun was just beginning to set as they pulled up to a small but cozy-looking home overlooking its own private beach. 

The garage door was open and a drum kit, two microphone stands, and several amps were situated in a typical stage set up. Hunk and another person Shiro didn’t recognize were flitting around the garage doing various equipment checks. Shiro nodded approvingly as he and Keith got off the motorcycle and Keith flipped down his kickstand. 

“Wow, this is a pretty legit setup you guys have!” he called as they approached the garage. 

Hunk looked up from the amp he was working on and grinned. “Hey! Shiro! You made it! And you even dragged Keith along, what a surprise.” His voice had started with just a hint of sarcastic elation, but was dripping with it by the time he’d finished his sentence. 

“Whatever,” Keith groaned. “I’m here. Shut up and get your mic. Where’s Lance?” 

“LANCE!” Hunk shouted towards the closed door to the house. “He’s inside, probably flirting with my mom for more snacks.” 

Keith and Shiro both laughed for a moment before Keith introduced their drummer, Romelle. She enthusiastically shook Shiro’s hand and rapid-fired a million questions at him about Seam Ripper. 

Shiro’s face flushed and he turned to Keith, half shocked and half embarrassed. “I didn’t realize you guys had heard of us,” he said with a laugh. 

“We’re _huge_ fans,” Romelle replied with a grin. “Especially Lance, he’s going to DIE when he sees you here. I almost didn’t recognize you without the black in your hair!” 

Shiro laughed and shrugged. “Yeah, I went gray early. The first time we got booked for a show my manager said it didn’t look _punk rock,”_ he emphasized with air quotes, “Enough, so we tried to dye it, but neither of us had ever done it before so it turned out patchy and terrible. The next time, I got a bottle of super temporary dye but the bottle wasn’t big enough and we started in the back. It just kinda stuck after that.” 

Everyone laughed and Romelle was halfway through her next series of questions when the door burst open and a young man who must have been Lance swaggered in, carrying his bass guitar in one hand and a plate of snacks in the other. 

“You guys are welcome, I managed to talk Mrs. G into making…” He trailed off when he saw Shiro and his jaw slowly opened in disbelief. 

With lightning speed and surprising gentleness, he set his guitar and the plate down and bolted across the garage to Shiro’s side. 

“Oh my god… Is this real? Are you real? Am I real? Am I dead?” Lance babbled as he poked each of Shiro’s arms and then softly ran his index finger down Shiro’s cheek. 

Shiro laughed and slowly pushed his hand away. “Yes, yes, yes, and no.” 

“OH MY GOD YOU’RE REALLY HIM!” Lance squealed and threw his arms around Shiro’s neck and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. 

Shiro coughed and patted Lance’s back patiently, trying to be gentle as he pried Lance off. 

Lance took a step back but didn’t let go of Shiro’s shoulders. “I have all four of your albums. You’re my hero,” he whispered in awe. 

“Lance, enough, Jesus,” Keith growled. He grabbed Lance’s shoulder and pushed him a few feet back. “Let’s just play before he realizes how lame you are and bolts.” 

“H-how... you… he… what?” Lance babbled at the edge of coherency. 

Shiro smiled, small but full of warmth, and put his hand on Keith’s lower back. “Just pretend I’m not here. I just wanna listen.” He leaned in close to Keith’s ear and whispered, “You’re not gonna scare me off so easy.” 

Keith shivered and cleared his throat. “You heard the man, he’s not here! Let’s do this. Standard setlist.” 

At Keith’s barked command, the other three jumped to their places. Lance and Keith plugged their guitars in and did a quick sound check before taking their places. Hunk and Romelle were already in place. 

Romelle banged out a rapid series of notes. “One, Two, Three, YEAH!” she screamed over the roar of the drums and everyone began to play. 

Shiro’s eyebrows shot up as the music started. He’d heard a lot of garage bands play throughout the years, and most of them weren’t very good if he was being honest. Keith’s band was easily better than half of Seam Ripper’s openers had been on their tour. 

His spine tingled as Hunk’s deep, even voice rang out over the din of guitars and drums. The energetic tune mingled with the melancholy vocals adding another layer of depth to the already compelling song. Shiro felt his body sway to the music unconsciously and his cheeks were beginning to sting from his wide grin. 

The song was punchy and tight at less than three minutes, but Shiro was still disappointed to hear it end. He clapped enthusiastically and turned his smile to Keith. 

“That was incredible! You guys are really amazing,” Shiro said breathlessly. “I’m blown away. Do you have any studio recordings?” 

Hunk turned to Keith with a glare. “Some of us are too lazy to get our asses into a booth, so we only have shitty phone-quality audio.” 

Shiro shook his head. “Wow, you guys have got to hit the booth. My manager would absolutely flip if he heard you.” 

Romelle pulled her headphones off and stood up. “I can’t hear shit,” she shouted. “But you seem excited! Thanks!” 

Shiro laughed. “And you have to get your drummer better ear protection. I can send you a link to the ones Pidge has, she’s super anal about that kind of thing.” 

“Oh my god,” Lance whimpered, letting himself wilt down to the floor. “Takashi Shirogane likes my band. I can die happy.” 

Keith growled low in his throat and the microphone in front of him picked it up inadvertently. “Can we just get back to playing?” 

Shiro’s smile fell and his brows furrowed. “Yeah, sure, we can talk about this later. You guys should practice.” 

The rest of the evening flew by as Shiro listened and the others played. He was blown away song after song, especially when Keith joined in to provide backup to Hunk’s vocals. Every single one of them was incredible but together they were something even greater than the sum of their individual parts. Shiro had never heard anything like it. 

When the band finished up and started packing their gear, Shiro finally glanced at his phone to find it far later than he’d expected. They’d had a lot of fun, and Shiro had eventually joined in. It didn’t feel the same as playing with his own band, but he still enjoyed it. Keith had insisted Shiro take over for him since their backup amp had been on the fritz for months. All in all, it was a great jam session and Shiro was beyond pleased. 

Romelle ran up to give him a hug and thank for him coming, and Hunk clapped him hard on the back. Shiro made sure to put Hunk’s contact information into his phone so they could talk business later. Lance produced a sharpie from somewhere and practically begged for Shiro to sign his bass, which Shiro did without hesitation. 

Keith hung back, holding onto his guitar like it was a snake that might suddenly rear back and strike him. Shiro approached cautiously and put his hand on Keith’s shoulder. 

“You okay?” he asked quietly. 

Keith jumped a little and shrugged. “Yeah, we sounded good tonight. Thanks for coming.” 

Shiro smiled. “I had a great time.”

They stood in awkward silence for a long moment before Shiro cleared his throat. “So it’s getting kinda late. You wanna take me back to the hotel or…?” He trailed off, hoping Keith caught his implication. 

Keith’s face flushed and he gripped his guitar more tightly. “Was actually wondering if you uh, if you wanted to head down the beach and play a little. Just us.” 

Butterflies erupted in Shiro’s stomach. “That sounds great, I’d love to.” 

Keith nodded and slung his guitar over his shoulder. They made their way down the beach, bumping shoulders and chuckling as they walked unevenly in the sticky sand. Keith found a dry spot that overlooked the water and they both sat down. 

It was a gorgeous night - not a cloud in the sky and the almost-full moon shining down on them. It glittered off of the dark ocean and a million stars twinkled overhead. What Shiro found most surprising, though, was the quiet. He could only barely hear the faint skittering of bugs in the trees and the gentle roar of the calm waves. 

They played together quietly, Keith softly singing along at times, Shiro at others, and laughing through duets. It was serene and magical and Shiro felt more at peace than he had in years. 

“Keith,” Shiro murmured, setting his guitar into his case to avoid the sand. “Why… You’re so good at this, why don’t you guys play more?” 

Keith’s relaxed posture tightened like a boa constrictor and Shiro almost winced at the abrupt change in mood. It had clearly been the wrong thing to say, but Shiro needed to know. 

Shiro winced again as Keith dropped his own guitar into the sand and sighed. “We used to play a lot, and then I got us kicked out of the only place in town that doesn’t play shitty tourist music. Just seems kind of pointless now.” 

The sounds of the night went from soothing to overwhelming as Shiro worked up the courage to ask, “What happened?”

Keith took a moment to collect himself before beginning, “You probably kind of figured, but I’ve been known to go pretty hard pretty fast when it comes to guys I’m into.” 

Shiro smiled bashfully and nodded, hoping that would prompt Keith along. 

“There was this guy that worked at the Acoustic Albatross. James. Taught me everything I know about bartending…” He trailed off and sighed again. “Anyway, we had a pretty intense fling, but it went south after a couple months. It was a really bad breakup.” 

Shiro grimaced in sympathy. “I can relate pretty strongly there. I’m sorry you had to go through that.” 

Keith shrugged. “I was fine after a few months, but James couldn’t deal with it. Especially when we were getting popular and his boss kept having us back every weekend to draw in the crowds. Eventually he moved back to Missouri, where his family lives.” 

Shiro wasn’t sure what the problem could be if James wasn’t around anymore, but he waited patiently as Keith stared out at the waves for another few moments.

“Anyway, Sanda and I had a big knock out drag out about it and she banned me from the bar, which meant Romelle and the guys either had to replace me or quit doing gigs. Told them to just find someone else so I wouldn’t hold them back, but… they’re good friends. Been almost two years since we played anywhere but Hunk’s garage.” 

Shiro nodded and reached a hand over to gently squeeze Keith’s knee. “Have you tried talking to her? Maybe she’s cooled off since it’s been a long time.” 

Keith scoffed and scooped up a seashell, staring down at the hole he started digging with it instead of looking at Shiro. “You don’t know Sanda. She’s gonna be mad about it until hell freezes over.” 

“Yeah, I know a couple people like that,” Shiro said with a laugh. “Our manager’s husband had a falling out with one of my bandmates like five years ago and he still edits her voice out of every take the first time he gets his hands on it. She’s no better honestly, won’t even look at him when he comes to parties and stuff.” 

Keith laughed and nodded. “Yeah, she’s pretty much exactly like that.” He looked up and smiled just the ghost of a smile, eyes glittering in the moonlight. Shiro could hardly breathe. 

“You guys have real talent, though. I think you should reconsider recording. I know Matt would kill to get his hands on your sound,” Shiro finally choked out. 

Keith stiffened again and shrugged. “Maybe,” he finally mumbled. “Getting late, wanna head back?” 

Shiro nodded, satisfied at least that he might be able to talk Keith into it instead of being flatly refused. He packed up his guitar properly while Keith clumsily wiped the sand off of his own and they walked back up the way they’d come. Hunk had left the garage door open and the light on for them, so Keith tucked his guitar back into the case and made sure everything was turned off before entering the code on the panel just outside. 

He grabbed Shiro’s arm and pulled him in for a kiss before Shiro could head back to Keith’s bike. “Thanks for tonight, it was fun,” he murmured against Shiro’s lips. 

“Absolutely, I had a blast.” 

“Mind if I crash with you again tonight? That bed is like sleeping on puppies made of marshmallows,” Keith said with a fond smile. 

Shiro leaned back in for another kiss, almost missing in the dark. “I was hoping you would.” 


	6. Chapter 6

After being out so late the night before, Shiro and Keith ended up actually sleeping for most of the night. They had another late lunch delivered to the room and ate in bed, enjoying each other’s company. Shiro was careful not to bring up the touchy subjects from the night before, instead carefully asking Keith more about his band and their music while dancing around the ideas of live performances and professional recordings. Keith turned the conversation around more often than he didn’t, but Shiro still enjoyed the opportunity to get to know him better. 

Maybe a little too well, he thought as Keith left in the early afternoon to get ready for another shift at the bar. Shiro was ruminating on how little time he had left to spend with Keith. He thought about going down to see him, but thought better of it after a moment. He decided to text Hunk instead. 

Taxi fare, much like all prices in the tourist-flooded area, was absurd, but Shiro didn’t think much of paying the exorbitant sum as he stepped out into the parking lot of Mrs. G’s diner. He felt a little guilty about having told Hunk he wanted to talk more about the band when he really wanted to ask more about Keith. Resolving to try to do both, and start with the former, he headed inside. 

The bell over the door tinkled and Mrs. G greeted him from behind the counter with another warm smile. “Hi dear. No Keith today?” 

Shiro returned her smile and shook his head. “He’s working tonight, I was hoping to catch Hunk, actually.” 

The faint sigh of relief struck Shiro as odd, but he didn’t have long to mull it over as she went to call Hunk from the kitchen. 

“Hey, man! You got here quick!” Hunk called with a friendly wave as he pushed his way past the swinging door built into the counter.

They exchanged pleasantries while Hunk led them to a booth on the far side of the small dining area, up against a large window. Shiro began to feel uncomfortable; he’d always been more of a planner and doer than a negotiator. That sort of thing was Matt’s job. 

Luckily, Hunk saved him from the awkwardness of trying to come up with a way to initiate the conversation. “So here’s the deal. Recording time is super expensive and Keith’s so squirrelly about the whole thing, it’s a big risk. We’ve already dropped a couple hundred  _ non-refundable _ bucks trying to get it done because he doesn’t show.” 

Shiro frowned and crossed his arms. “That’s such a shame, you guys are so talented.”

“I’m not the cocky sort, but we used to kill at the Albatross,” Hunk agreed with a sigh. 

It took a few long, uncomfortable moments for Shiro to work up the nerve to finally say, “Keith gave me the short version, but I still don’t think I understand what happened.”

“Oh man,” Hunk groaned, burying his face in his hands for a moment before looking up with a defeated expression. “I don’t want to paint him in a negative light, I love the guy, but dude’s got some issues.” 

“Don’t we all,” Shiro murmured. 

Hunk’s face changed to a look so stern it took Shiro aback. “No, seriously. Keith’s been my best friend since we were kids. He’s practically family. Our moms play poker every weekend while our dads drink light beer and watch sports.” 

“Totally understand,” Shiro replied, not sure where Hunk was going with things. 

“First of all, do you actually even like him? Or is this just a fling for you?” When Shiro hesitated for a second, Hunk added, “I won’t say anything to him, you can be honest.” 

Shiro’s immediate reaction surprised him. “I like him a lot. Too much for how little I know him.” 

Hunk nodded and sat back more comfortably in his chair, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Good,” he said sagely, head still bobbing for a few long moments. “Like I said, he’s a good guy, but… I don’t know, his dad got hurt and had to retire and then all that stuff with his ex. It’s been a long time since he’s gone all in on something.” 

Shiro’s hand drifted to his chin as he considered Hunk’s words. 

“Anyway,” Hunk continued with a sigh. “When were first playing at the Albatross, Keith started dating one of the bartenders there. He came to all our shows, even when he wasn’t working, was always hanging out when we were practicing. Keith practically lived at his apartment that summer.” 

The uncomfortable pause set Shiro’s pulse pounding faster. 

Hunk lowered his arms to rest his hands on his thighs. “Don’t… don’t tell him you know any of this, he’ll know it was me,” he said, looking off to the side and avoiding Shiro’s eyes. “But Keith dropped an L bomb after a few months and the guy freaked. They had a big fight about it and broke up and I thought things would go back to normal but…” 

“What happened?” Shiro asked, unable to fight down his urge to lean across the table, as if being closer to the words would make them come out faster. 

Hunk rubbed a hand down his face and let out a noise halfway between a sigh and the cry of a dying animal. “I’m still not really sure. We were setting up before it got crowded, getting ready to play. James came by with a drink for Lance, apparently muttered something under his breath when he left and the next thing I knew James was flat on his ass and Keith was wailing on him.” He shook his head and swallowed before continuing. “Keith’s kind of a little guy, especially compared to me, and I was barely able to pull him off. Never seen anybody that mad... Anyway, his nose was smashed to a pulp and Sanda called the cops. It was a whole big thing.” 

Shiro cringed as Hunk finished. “Did either of them press charges?” 

Hunk shook his head. “I think James packed up that weekend and left the island. Don’t remember seeing him at all after that. I went in a couple days later to try to smooth things over with Sanda, brought some cookies and everything, but she wasn’t having it. She said if Keith ever set foot in her bar again she’d file a restraining order.” 

Shiro let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and nodded. He wasn’t sure he understood, but didn’t know what else to do. “Well… thank you for telling me, Hunk.” 

“I don’t want you to think he’s like that, though,” Hunk muttered, rubbing his hand over his face. “That was a long time ago and he’s learned a lot since then. He would never tell me what James said but if I know anything about Keith, it had to have been something pretty horrible. He’s not… not some kind of loose cannon whacko.” 

“No, of course,” Shiro assured. Even though he’d only spent a few days with Keith, he was sure Keith wouldn’t have done something so drastic without some severe provocation. 

Silence stretched between them for uncomfortably long time as they both sat, lost in thought. The wheels in Shiro’s head spun around and around as he considered all of his options. Finally, he decided. 

“I’m gonna go to the Albatross and talk to Sanda. I want to hear you guys play for real, and if I can toss whatever weight I have around to help out my new friends, that’s what I have to do.” Shiro nodded with finality and stood up as soon as the words left his mouth. 

Hunk got up to follow him, gently gripping his forearm before he could get far. “I don’t know if this will work, but I appreciate the hell out of you for trying, man.” 

Shiro’s eyes widened as Hunk pulled him into a tight hug and thumped his back twice. His face melted into a smile and he returned the embrace. 

“You know, I hope you and Keith manage to make whatever this is work,” Hunk said, almost absently, as he let go of Shiro. “You’re the only person I’ve ever met who’s just as stubborn as he is.” 

The thought made butterflies erupt in Shiro’s stomach. “Thanks, I think,” he said with a laugh. “And I do too.” His voice dropped to barely above a whisper. 

If Hunk heard him, he didn’t have anything to say about Shiro’s quiet admission.

“Hopefully you’ll be hearing from me tonight with a gig date!” Shiro called with a wave as he left the diner, pulling out his phone to call a taxi. 

* * *

It wasn’t surprising that the parking lot of The Acoustic Albatross was almost completely empty so early in the afternoon, but it still struck Shiro as foreboding. He couldn’t shake the feeling that a tumbleweed should be rolling by as he pushed open the double doors and made his way inside. 

Out of the kindness of his heart, Shiro wouldn’t have called the place a  _ dump,  _ but it certainly made him feel grateful that his days of playing in badly lit bars with tacky, crooked posters lining the walls and floors that made your shoes sticky no matter how much they were mopped were over. Luckily the manager’s office was clearly labeled and there was no one in the main area to stop him from walking right up and knocking. 

As soon as a gruff voice called, “Come in,” Shiro realized he had no idea what he was going to say. 

Not for the first time that week, he wondered what exactly he was getting himself into. Normally he tried to at least come up with a semblance of plan before strutting in somewhere and making demands, but the door knob was turning in his hand and winging it was his only option. Matt and Lotor were always the ones to do the negotiating, but Shiro was usually present or at least given a lively play-by-play afterwards (courtesy of Matt, of course), so he did his best to do what Matt would do. 

Shiro plastered a wide grin on his face as he pushed the door open and let himself into Sanda’s office. He held his hand out, ready for a shake. “Hello there, you must be Sanda. I’ve heard so much, all great things.” 

Out of politeness, Shiro guessed by her unamused expression, Sanda stood and shook his hand. “I’m sorry, do we have an appointment?” 

“Were you not expecting me? I asked my assistant to call.” Shiro was surprised how easily the lie rolled off his tongue. He was a little bit too good at pretending to be Lotor, he decided. “Well I can come back if now isn’t a good time.” 

Sanda shook her head at the word  _ assistant  _ and Shiro could swear somewhere far off in the distance he heard a cartoon sound effect of a cash register dinging. “You’ve already come all this way, I can clear my schedule for a few minutes. Please, have a seat, Mr…?” 

“Shirogane,” Shiro said, taking the offered seat across from her desk. “But please, call me Shiro.” 

She smiled what looked like an attempt at sweetly, but for some reason the expression didn’t quite suit her face. “Of course, Shiro. What can I do for you?” 

Shiro hooked his right ankle over his left knee and linked his fingers together, holding them in his lap. It was something he’d seen Lotor do a thousand times and was never quite sure why it seemed to be so effective during negotiations. Regardless, he leaned in just a little bit, Lotor’s voice echoing in his head.  _ You have to make them feel like they’re in on some grand secret.  _

“Well,” Shiro began with a conspiratorial smile, “I’m here on behalf of Atlas Records and there’s a local band we’re interested in signing.” 

Sanda’s eyebrows shot up and she mimicked his posture, torso hovering above her desk as her folded hands wrinkled a few errant bits of paper. “That’s quite the opportunity,” she said carefully. “How can I help?” 

“The only recordings they’ve been able to provide aren’t the quality we’re used to.” Shiro felt slimy as the lies just kept spilling from his mouth. “Regardless, they have a unique edge about them that my associates are very interested in. We were hoping you’d be able to reorganize your schedule and have them play before I leave on Sunday so that we can make our decision.” 

Sanda nodded slowly and brought a hand to her chin. Shiro fought back the urge to roll his eyes at the obvious show she was making out of her consideration. People like her were the reason Shiro, well Matt really, found Lotor to represent them in the first place. 

“I would love to help you, Mr. Shirogane, I really would… but that’s moving awfully quick and there’s so much to consider.” 

Shiro didn’t let his plastered on smile falter. “Oh of course, we’d be happy to offset some of the cost. You’ll still be able to make a hefty profit on this endeavor between Atlas’s contribution and the sizeable local following.” 

Sanda nodded and her saccharine expression melted into a much more genuine contentment. Shiro had clearly said the magic words and he was beyond relieved that it appeared the conversation was almost over. His bank account wouldn’t be happy with him in the morning, but he was sure Keith would be, and that’s what mattered most. 

“Well in that case, I’m certain we can come to an arrangement,” Sanda said with a decisive nod as she opened her laptop and began clicking away. “Who should I contact to find out the band’s availability and equipment needs?” 

Shiro pulled out his phone and opened Hunk’s information. “Hunk Garrett, he’s the-” 

Sanda slammed her laptop down with a painful crunch of plastic that seemed to echo in the small office. “Has he replaced his degenerate guitarist?” Shiro could have sworn he heard her teeth grinding as she asked the question. 

He swallowed thickly, and fought to retain his composure. “I’m not sure I follow.” 

A hot, red flush crept its way up her neck to dust her pale cheeks in splotches of anger. “Keith,” she all but hissed. “He is not welcome in this establishment.” 

“Surely we can come to an arrangement,” Shiro tried to say in a soothing tone, pulse pounding as he felt the situation begin to spiral out of his control. 

“No,” Sanda growled. “I’m afraid that’s a non-starter.” 

Shiro’s heart sank. Hunk hadn’t been exaggerating her disdain for Keith at all, apparently. He cleared his throat and let his eyes wander around her office for a moment while he desperately prayed for inspiration. There was a way out of this, Shiro knew it in his heart. The universe just had to give him a sign, something to work with. 

The sign came to him in the worst possible form: A tiny pin on Sanda’s lapel. It was a blue and yellow letterman jacket with an S on the left side of the chest, no bigger than a quarter. It was both Shiro’s deliverance and his doom. 

“Just hear me out,” Shiro said, calm and commanding on the outside as his stomach and heart played a rapid game of leapfrog that made him feel dizzy and sick. He cleared his throat and tried to choke down the nausea. “I can give you two things that I think will more than make up for this… discomfort you have.” 

Sanda’s teeth were still gritted, but she gave a curt nod.

He took a deep breath and plastered on another slimy smile. “Firstly, you have my assurance that you won’t be financially liable for any… let’s say disruptive behavior on the part of my potential client.” 

She didn’t look impressed but Shiro took her lack of interjection as a sign to keep going. 

“And secondly,” he nodded to her jacket. “I am close personal friends with someone I think you’d very much like to meet, and I can guarantee that he’ll be at the show. Play your cards right and I can probably talk him into sticking around for a personal meet and greet with you.” 

* * *

Shiro walked out of the bar feeling like he needed the world’s hottest shower and stiffest drink. The salty air felt like sandpaper against his skin. He unlocked his phone and called the last person in the universe he wanted to speak to. 

The phone rang for what felt like an eternity until Adam’s voicemail picked up. Shiro rolled his eyes as he droned on about his assistant and agent and filming schedule. He hung up before the beep instead of leaving a message, unsure how Adam even managed to record a voicemail that long.

Despair was his first instinct, but Shiro quickly shoved it down and was mentally preparing himself to call again (and leave an actual message this time) when a thought struck him. A conversation with Adam would be tense and likely painful, and he wasn’t even sure Adam would agree to help him out, but Curtis on the other hand… from what Shiro had noticed about him so far, Curtis  _ loved  _ helping people. He was almost infuriatingly good natured and Shiro felt horrible taking advantage of that, but not horrible enough not to call a taxi back to his hotel right away. 

Shiro hatched a scheme on the short drive over and headed to the room where Curtis and Adam were staying. 

Curtis answered the door quickly, confusion melting into delight as soon as he saw Shiro’s sheepish smile. He ushered Shiro inside and offered him a drink, more than happy to make small talk for a few minutes as Shiro sat awkwardly at the little table in the kitchenette. 

“So, I was actually hoping you could do me a favor,” Shiro finally worked up the courage to say during a short lull in their conversation. “You and uh, and Adam.” 

Curtis grinned and nodded, taking a swig of his mango mimosa. “Sure, how can we help?” 

A pang of guilt erupted in Shiro’s stomach, but he shoved it down. Curtis really was far too nice for Adam. “Well… really it’s for Keith,” he stammered, his entire plan going out the window as soon as he started talking. 

Something about those gentle eyes made Shiro incapable of stilling his tongue. He told Curtis about Keith’s band, about how great they were, about the situation with Sanda at the Albatross. He tried to leave out any details that might make Keith uncomfortable, but between the champagne fizzing in his cup and the understanding way Curtis’s brows furrowed as he explained, Shiro knew he probably shared a bit too much. 

“Of course, I’ll make sure he’s there with bells on. He’s not filming on Friday anyway and I’ve been trying to get him to that bar all week,” Curtis soothed as Shiro finished his rambling. 

Too nice for Adam by far, Shiro was sure. “Thank you so much, I can’t tell you how much this means to me.” 

Curtis nodded, ever-present smile still shining, and refilled Shiro’s drink. “There is one thing you could do to pay me back, though,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Of course, anything. What can I do?” Shiro answered reflexively, taking a big gulp of his drink. 

“Adam and I are doing the hotel’s surfing class tomorrow afternoon, and it would be really fun if you and Keith came along.” 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized while writing this that I don’t know a single thing about surfing besides it involves water and I was too pressed for time to do a bunch of research so focus on the cute boys kissing please lol

Convincing Keith to go surfing with himself, his ex, and his ex’s new boyfriend was far easier than Shiro had thought it would be. After a relaxing morning in bed, Keith was more than happy to head down to the beach with Shiro to catch some waves, even with the potential awkwardness of Adam and Curtis being there. 

“So, have you ever been surfing before?” Keith asked as they checked in to the event and picked up their training boards. 

Shiro shrugged and adjusted the board under his arm. It was a lot bigger than he’d been expecting, but somehow also lighter. “No, but I used to go snowboarding all the time and I’ve heard it’s similar. It should be fun.” 

Keith smirked and jabbed the end of his board into the sand, leaning in to kiss Shiro on the cheek. Shiro’s heart fluttered and a soft smile forced its way onto his face. 

“What was that for?” He asked quietly. 

Keith chuckled and shook his head. “Nothing, I’m just really looking forward to this.” 

Shiro couldn’t tell whether Keith was being sweet or somehow foreboding. Before he had a chance to examine the warning bells ringing in his head, Curtis called his name and the four of them were once again awkwardly exchanging pleasantries. 

“I’m so glad you guys were able to join us! Adam’s been dying to come surfing for ages, but I’ve never done it, so I didn’t think he’d have fun if it was just me. Keith, I bet you’re an expert!” Curtis said jovially, struggling to maintain control of his board as he tried to rest it upright in the sand like Keith’s. 

Keith laughed and shrugged. “Been out a time or two. This should be fun.” 

Shiro’s brows furrowed and he turned to Adam. “I didn’t know you cared about surfing,” he murmured, almost without thinking. It was more than a little surprising; they had been together for so long, Shiro thought he would have known something like this. 

Keith and Curtis stopped their conversation and turned to listen. An uncomfortable air settled about the group as Adam took his time responding. “You never asked.” 

The words hit Shiro’s chest like a bucket of cold water. By themselves they were innocent enough, but the underlying implication that Shiro had been anything but loving and respectful of Adam’s interests stung. There wasn’t much he could say, especially not so publicly, but the urge to defend himself burned in his chest. 

Keith cleared his throat. “Hey, looks like we’re headed to the water.” He craned his neck towards the line of their classmates slowly walking away from the sign in area. 

“Right,” Shiro grumbled, adjusting his board again and turning his back to Adam. 

Keith pulled his board from the sand and half-jogged a few steps to catch up with him, leaving Adam and Curtis to trail behind them. 

A warm hand landed on Shiro’s shoulder as soon as Keith was at his side. “You okay?” 

Shiro nodded and licked his lips. “Yeah, it’s fine. Old stuff.” 

Keith hummed in a mixture of what looked to be acceptance and dissatisfaction. A pang of guilt hit Shiro’s gut, but the last thing he wanted to do was tell Keith about all of the baggage he was still holding on to. Especially not with Adam well within earshot. 

They made their way to the rest of the group and listened patiently as the instructor explained the basics and gave safety tips. Shiro found it hard to pay attention even though he knew he should. The sun had risen hours before, but even in the full light of the early afternoon Keith still seemed to glow. A content smile graced his face and the few wild strands of hair that escaped his elastic swirled in the ghost of a breeze. 

Keith turned and saw Shiro staring. A faint dusting of blush peppered his cheeks and he shook his head fondly, nodding back to the instructor. The simple, wordless exchange was all it took to have Shiro’s heart slamming against his ribs. As quietly and carefully as he could manage, taking extra caution not to slam his board into any of the middle-aged, sunburnt tourists surrounding them, Shiro shifted the wood so he could steady it with just his prosthetic. His other hand quested out slowly until it met Keith’s and their fingers tangled together. 

Shiro kept waiting for Keith to turn and look at him again, doing his best to keep his eyes forward but unable to help himself from glancing back to Keith every few seconds. Keith didn’t turn, but his smile tipped further up his cheek and he gave Shiro’s hand a light squeeze. 

Suddenly surfing seemed like it would be the easiest thing in the world.

After what felt like hours but couldn’t have been longer than a few minutes, the instructor released them with careful reminders of the safety tips Shiro had ignored. 

“Is he not going to show us how to do it?” Curtis asked with a laugh as the whole group began to carefully entire the water. 

Keith patted him on the back once with a grin. “Don’t worry, Adam’s a pro. He’s got you.” He turned to Adam with a look that might as well have been the tossing of a glove. “Right?” 

Adam let out a haughty laugh. “Alright, if that’s how it’s going to be. Let’s see how you do, kid.” 

“After you, gramps. Age before beauty,” Keith scoffed. 

Shiro wasn’t sure if he wanted to encourage Keith’s antagonizing, tell him to lay off, or just sit back and watch. Curtis had no trouble making his decision. 

He let out what could only be called a giggle and walked unsteadily into the wet sand. “You guys are so macho,” Curtis teased. “Come on then! Prove all your big talk, boys. Shiro and I are waiting!”

Shiro shook his head and followed Curtis into the waves, still not quite believing the ridiculous circumstances. His competitive side got the best of him, though. “Yeah right! I’ll surf all you losers under the table!” 

The other three men laughed at his challenge and they made their way out into the water far enough to get on their boards. Keith was clearly the most skilled of the four of them and climbed up with an effortless grace that had Shiro so enthralled he almost forgot to continue treading water. 

Salty spray stung at Shiro’s eyes as he kicked himself higher in the water, clambering onto his board with all the finesse of a dog trying to walk on its hind legs. It took an embarrassingly long time, but eventually Shiro was able to haul himself up without tilting forward or spinning over the top of it. 

Adam and Keith were already yards away, happily competing in the relatively small waves. With a growl of determination, Shiro paddled his way toward them and tried to hop upright. At first everything seemed to be going well, but after the briefest moment he lost his balance and slammed face first into the water. He pinwheeled under his board, unsure which way was up for a moment until the wave passed and he was able to spring up to the surface, gasping in a frustrated breath. 

Curtis wasn’t far behind him, and having about as much success. Keith and Adam made it look absolutely effortless as they caught wave after wave with perfect timing, which only made Shiro more determined to get it right. He rolled onto the board again and paddled back out toward the rollers, but they only sloshed past him as he failed to build up enough momentum to ride them. The few he caught, he wiped out the moment he tried to stand. 

After a few more increasingly pathetic attempts, Shiro was starting to curse under his breath. Before he could lose his composure completely Curtis paddled lazily toward him from flat atop his board. A tiny wave managed to flip Curtis into the water; his head popped up a few seconds later, bright smile still on his face as he coughed and laughed. 

“How do they make it look so easy?” Shiro grumbled, nodding towards the group that had taken to the lesson especially well, Adam and Keith included. 

Curtis shrugged and squealed out another laugh as he got back onto his board. “They’re all cheating, this is clearly some kind of witchcraft.” 

Shiro couldn’t help but laugh and he almost felt a little better as he climbed back up for yet another attempt. Before he could find a suitable wave, Curtis stopped him with a gentle clearing of his throat. 

“Adam was worried about you, I hope you know that,” he said quietly, looking out at the horizon instead of meeting Shiro’s eyes. 

Shiro’s stomach plummeted and all of the feelings he had been trying to shove down throughout the week bubbled up to the surface. “I was worried about him, too.” 

Curtis looked back at him with an understanding smile. “He’s doing a lot better now, but it was a rough couple of months.”

The waves bobbed them both up and down and Shiro felt absurd having a deep conversation in such a ridiculous place. 

“He bought your new album, you know,” Curtis said wryly, the corner of his mouth tugging up into a smirk. 

Shiro barked out a bitter laugh. “I’m glad at least one of us got his shit together.” 

“Shiro,” Curtis murmured, his voice taking on an oddly fatherly tone. He turned his head and Shiro couldn’t help but follow his eyes straight to Keith. “You’re not doing too bad for yourself… though it might help if you try opening up to someone.” 

Shiro’s breath caught in his throat as he watched Keith gliding through the water. “Maybe I will,” he murmured, eyes still fixed on Keith’s form, slowly paddling towards them. “Thanks for this, Curtis. For everything. You’re a good guy and I’m glad he has you.” 

Curtis grinned and turned his gaze from Keith to Adam. “He is very lucky,” Curtis agreed with a laugh. “No, no. We’re both lucky to have each other, but seriously, Shiro, you should give yourself more credit.” 

Shiro sighed and quietly agreed, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say, especially not with Keith so close.

“I thought you said you were good at snowboarding?” Keith half-shouted as he continued swimming toward them. Shiro could hear the smirk in his voice. 

“You knew the whole time, you traitor!” Shiro yelled back, laughing and slapping his prosthetic through the water, sending a torrent right for Keith. 

It fell short by a few inches and didn’t seem to deter Keith in the slightest, only bringing a bright smile and cheery laugh. “What if I make it up to you by showing you how to do it right?”

Shiro rolled his eyes and pretended to be mad. “Fine… I guess.” He couldn’t maintain the ruse and soon they were both laughing. 

“Have fun, boys, I’m gonna go find Adam!” Curtis called happily as he paddled away to give them some privacy. 

Keith’s demeanor flipped like a lightswitch as soon as Curtis was out of earshot. “That seemed intense, thought you might need a rescue.” 

A familiar ball of anxiety swelled in Shiro’s gut, but he shrugged nonchalantly. “Nah, he’s actually pretty cool. He’s way too good for Adam.” 

Keith laughed and lightly splashed water towards Shiro’s arm. “Got that right,” he mumbled, still smiling. “Okay, come on. You’re gonna get at least one good wave in today.” 

Eventually, after many more failed attempts, Shiro did manage to catch exactly one wave and remain upright on his board for several long, glorious seconds before plummeting back down into the ocean. It was a small victory, but Shiro felt like king of the world with Keith by his side, whooping excitedly and congratulating him as his head finally popped back above the surface. 

They both decided it was important to end on a high note, and made their way back to shore. Shiro was more than a little exhausted by all the exertion and adrenaline, though he wouldn’t have admitted it for anything. Somehow Keith didn’t need him to, it was as though he could read it on Shiro’s face and knew Shiro needed him not to ask. It had been so long, Shiro had forgotten how good it was to feel understood in that way.

After quickly wishing Adam and Curtis a good night, they headed back to the hotel and enjoyed a long, hot shower together. It felt amazing to be rid of all the salt and sand, and even more amazing to order room service and eat a warm meal in bed with Keith pressed up against him. 

Shiro’s eyes felt heavy and he tried his best to suppress a yawn. He thought about letting himself drift off to sleep, lulled by the mindless droning of the TV and Keith’s steady breathing. A harsh buzz from the bedside jolted both of them from their daze and Keith sat up to retrieve his phone with an annoyed grunt. 

Shiro didn’t want to snoop but the way Keith stared at the message, rolled his eyes, and powered off the phone before tossing it to the bedroom floor made him curious and more than a little anxious. 

“That wasn’t uh, wasn’t Hunk by any chance, was it?” Shiro asked, not meeting Keith’s eyes as he settled back into Shiro’s side. 

He sat up and raised an eyebrow. “No, why would it be Hunk?”

“Uhhh…” Shiro stammered, swallowing hard. Lying to Keith was the last thing he wanted to do but he couldn’t think of a plausible excuse even if he had been willing to lie. 

So instead he told Keith about meeting up with Hunk while he was at work, about going to the Albatross and talking to Sanda, and about Curtis agreeing to drag Adam along so Keith’s band could play. Keith listened in complete silence, nodding occasionally as more and more spilled from Shiro’s mouth. It felt like he physically couldn’t stop speaking, anxiously filling any gap with more words. 

“I… shit, I’m realizing now I should have asked you first or at least told you right away, that was… I’m sorry, Keith.” Shiro clamped his tongue between his teeth to keep himself from saying anything more until Keith had a chance to respond. 

Keith let a short puff of air out of his nose and slumped his shoulders. Anxiety welled in Shiro’s gut as silence stretched between them. The TV, previously only barely audible, now sounded like a drill to his ear drums. 

Finally Keith let out a soft sardonic chuckle and shook his head. “You really wanted to hear me play on stage that bad?” He looked up into Shiro’s eyes and the smallest hint of a smile tugged at his lips.

The boulder that had lodged itself into Shiro’s sternum vanished. 

“It just didn’t seem right that you didn’t have the option,” Shiro murmured, scooting closer and taking Keith’s hands in his. “Plus I’ve been gushing to my best friend about you all week and he’s also my manager so I had to get something for him to listen to.” 

Keith’s eyes drifted upward and he leaned his shoulders away. “I don’t know what to say, Shiro.”    
  
“Say you’ll do it,” Shiro all but begged, squeezing Keith’s hands gently before loosening his grip. “Please.” 

Keith let out a long, drawn out groan and Shiro almost feared he would refuse, until Keith pulled his hands free of Shiro’s gentle grip and pushed him down onto his back. “Fine,” he mumbled, unable to hide a wide grin at Shiro’s shocked expression. “But you owe me.” 

Blood rushed to Shiro’s cheeks as Keith hovered over him for a long moment before ducking his head and pressing their mouths together. 

“Deal,” he murmured against Keith’s lips. 

* * *

The morning got off to a rocky start when Shiro and Keith were slammed into wakefulness at the shrill cry of Shiro’s phone from somewhere on the floor. They were both out of bed, scrambling with bleary eyes to find the damn thing and shut it up in the span of a heartbeat. Shiro finally found it wedged between the nightstand and the wall, having somehow fallen there amidst the previous evening’s activities. 

Hunk’s name was lit up on the screen, but Shiro hadn’t been fast enough to answer it before his voicemail kicked in. 

“Who was it?” Keith slurred, rubbing one eye with a curled fist. 

It took Shiro a long moment to parse the words. “Uh… Hunk.” 

“Oh, shit. Turned my phone off yesterday,” Keith mumbled, going back to the other side of the bed to find it. 

They both flopped back onto the bed waiting for it to turn on and Keith groaned as saw the barrage of messages and missed calls and voicemails his bandmates had left him in the past few hours. 

Shiro stumbled into the kitchenette to put on a pot of coffee while Keith called Hunk back. There wasn’t any angry shouting, so Shiro figured the litany of messages was just the excitement of having a date for a gig after so long. It wasn’t very far in his own past where he would have been just as thrilled and could remember leaving Rolo many a frantic voicemail. 

The coffee finally finished and Shiro poured two cups to take back into the bedroom. Keith was sitting up against the headboard in just his boxers, smiling as he cradled his phone against his shoulder and gladly accepted Shiro’s offering of caffeine. 

“Yeah, sorry, I just found out like 2 minutes ago. You sure it’s okay?” Keith said into the phone after taking a long sip.

Shiro settled in beside him and scrolled through his phone, smiling as a woman’s voice squealed in delight on the other end of the line. Shiro couldn’t make out any of the words she was saying, but she was clearly excited. It brought a wide grin to his face. 

“Thanks, mom. Anyway, I gotta go… okay… yeah I will… yeah… okay… yeah… Love you too. Okay. Bye.” Keith sighed and shook his head as he hung up and tossed his phone back to the floor.

“We’re playing tonight apparently,” Keith said after a long moment of contented silence stretched between them. 

Shiro sat up a little straighter and set his phone back on the nightstand. “Wow, that’s awesome. You excited?” 

Keith smirked and shrugged. “Yeah. Little nervous too.” 

Shiro smiled and wrapped his arm around Keith’s shoulders, pulling him into a loose hug. “I still get nervous before every show,” he admitted quietly. 

Keith looked up at him and laughed. “Really? You guys have like 5 albums.” 

“Every single time,” Shiro said, leaning down to kiss Keith softly on the corner of his mouth. “Distractions always help, though.” 

“Yeah?” Keith asked, raising an eyebrow. “What did you have in mind?” 

They spent the rest of the morning in bed and then took Keith’s bike on a long ride around his favorite parts of the island, stopped for lunch at a restaurant on the boardwalk, and took a long walk together along the beach. The sun was just beginning to dip over the horizon when they got back to Shiro’s hotel room and they watched it slowly dip into the ocean as they leaned against the balcony railing. 

“Should probably head over for setup,” Keith murmured against Shiro’s shoulder. “Thanks for taking my mind off things.” 

Shiro turned to face him and smiled, leaning in for a kiss. “My pleasure. You guys are gonna kick ass tonight.” 

It didn’t take long to get ready and soon they were pulling up to the door of the Acoustic Albatross. The small parking lot was so full Keith had a hard time finding somewhere to put his bike. He killed the engine and Shiro slid off, stretching his arms wide over his head while he waited for Keith to join him. 

Keith sat there for a long moment, staring at the handlebars and hardly breathing. Very slowly and carefully, Shiro walked over and laid a hand on his shoulder. 

“Hey, you okay?” He asked quietly.

Keith jumped at the sound of Shiro’s voice and nodded once. His face was a mask of grim determination. “Yeah… yeah. Let’s go in.” 

Shiro smiled and held out his hand for Keith to take as he led them inside. There was already a crowd of people gathered at the bar waiting for their drinks. The lights were at their brightest and the curtain was still drawn around the stage in the far back of the room.

He couldn’t help but try to see inside Sanda’s slightly ajar office door as they went past on the way to the stage. Adam and Sanda were engaged in what appeared to be a lively conversation, and Curtis was standing there politely smiling, looking nearly bored to tears. Shiro almost wanted to laugh but managed to hold it in. He made a mental note to thank Curtis again for his help in the arrangements. 

Keith led them up the steps and through the curtain, exchanging an excited hug with Romelle as she finished getting her drums set up. She was talking at a mile a minute, beyond thrilled to have the chance to play again, and Shiro could barely keep up with the conversation though her energy made him grin.

Keith had been trying to find out where the rest of the band was, but it was hard to get a word in edgewise during Romelle’s frantic stream-of-consciousness recap of her day leading up to Hunk telling her about the gig. She only stopped when Hunk’s furious bulk swept through the curtain and stormed up to them. 

"Can someone please explain," Hunk started through gritted teeth, one hand balled into a fist around a crumpled piece of paper, "what happened here?" 

Shiro's eyes widened and he had to choke down the laugh that was threatening to erupt from his chest as Hunk slowly unballed the wadded poster and held what remained of it up for the rest of the band to see. Thankfully Romelle falling over, knocking her high hat to the stage with a shrill clang that mixed with her incoherent sobs of laughter covered Shiro's the strangled gurgle.

Keith groaned and snatched the poster out of Hunk's hand. It had the date at the top along with the bar’s name in its stylized font, some clipart around the edges, and the title of the night’s entertainment in the center: “I Don’t Care, Ask Lance.”

"Sanda called and asked what our shitty band's name was this week. That’s what I told her. She knew what I meant. She did this on purpose!" 

Shiro cleared his throat and put his hand on Keith's shoulder. "You have to admit, it's pretty funny at least." 

Hunk took a deep breath and let it out slowly through his nose. "Whatever. At least she's letting us play here." He turned to Shiro and gave him a grateful nod. "Which, like, thank you again so much by the way. You're a wizard or something." 

Shiro laughed and waved a hand in the air. "It's no big deal, I'm just happy to get to hear you guys play again." 

Lance strolled up holding an armful of beer bottles, broad grin on his face. "Hey did you guys know that guy from Stream Valley is here!?" He started handing out the bottles, not noticing the awkward silence that had fallen over the group. 

When he got to where Romelle should have been sitting his eyes tracked downward to find her still lying on the floor next to her drumset, clutching her ribs and silently shaking. He raised an eyebrow and turned back to the group. "Uh… is she okay? What's going on?" 

Hunk's jaw clenched again and Keith sighed as he handed over the crumpled poster. Lance's eyes widened as he took in the words. "No no no no… aw man I had so many awesome names! Dang it, Keith!" He tossed the paper to the ground and crossed his arms over his chest. 

"How is this  _ my _ fault? I  _ told  _ Sanda to ask you, she just didn't listen!" Keith protested, flinging his arms in the air. 

Lance balled his fists at his side and walked up to Keith, opening his mouth to say something else, but Shiro stepped in between them and pushed Lance back as gently as he could. “Okay, okay, look. It’s not a big deal,” he soothed. “Plus, you guys will have plenty of time to come up with a name after tonight anyway. We weren’t Seam Ripper until the night before our first album went into production. It’s fine.” 

It another long, tense moment of posturing and glaring at each other, but Lance and Keith both calmed down eventually and walked to opposite sides of the stage to finish setting up. Hunk shot Shiro a grateful look before helping Romelle off the floor and finishing his own set up. 

A few minutes later, Sanda strode through the curtain. “Twenty minutes boys and girls. You better be ready.” 

Various grunts and affirmations sounded around the stage. Sanda met Shiro’s eyes pointedly and then nodded towards Keith. “Remember our deal. Keep that dog on a tight leash,” she all but growled. 

Shiro clenched his jaws shut and took in a deep breath through his nose before answering. “Everything’s going to go off without a hitch, don’t worry.” His voice sounded far more strained and far less reassuring than he would have liked. 

She shot Keith another glare before giving Shiro a curt nod and stepping back through the curtain. Shiro turned to see if Keith noticed the acidic look Sanda had given him, but Keith was busy untangling wires and had his back to where she’d left. 

Instead of drawing any attention to it, Shiro decided to offer his help with the rest of the equipment and the band was ready to play just before the lights began to dim and a voice over the tinny speakers announced it was time for the show to start. Shiro gave Keith a quick kiss for luck and hurried down the stairs to find a good place to watch. 

Curtis caught his eye and waved as he scanned the crowd for a spot he might be able to slide into. Shiro smiled and nodded to him, pushing his way through the throng as politely as he could. Adam and Curtis shouted a greeting that was lost in the screams of excitement as the curtain raised and the band began to play. 

Shiro was used to crowds and venues dozens of times larger, but the energy in the room was exactly the same as if Keith and his friends were headlining at Madison Square Garden. It had been a long time since Shiro had been on this end of a performance and it was a lot more fun than he remembered. He didn’t know any of the words by heart, so he couldn’t sing along, but that didn’t stop him from dancing and screaming with the other people packed around him like sardines. 

Halfway through the set, the distinct opening rhythm of Shiro’s favorite song he’d heard at Hunk’s house started. He shot off a text to Matt demanding he answer his phone and listen carefully to the music as soon as Hunk began to sing. Predictably glued to his phone, Matt answered on the first ring and Shiro held the phone up through the chorus before putting it back to his ear. 

Between the music and the crowd’s cheers he couldn’t hear a single word Matt said, so he hung up and went back to texting. 

Shiro: What do you think?

Matt: I sent you to Hawaii to relax, not to scout bands

Matt: but also DAMN we gotta get them in a recording studio

Shiro couldn’t have been more elated to show the band Matt’s response after the show. 

Shiro tried to lose himself in the music, but he couldn’t tear his eyes off Keith. Those long, slender fingers flew across the frets while his hair whipped back and forth, straining against the elastic band slowly slipping towards his shoulders as the night wore on. Even covered in sweat and beet red, Keith was still stunning. It made Shiro’s chest ache with fondness when he looked up, somehow right to where Shiro was standing, and let the faintest hint of a smile grace his face before his eyes narrowed and chin tucked again to redouble his focus. 

As soon as the curtain dropped and the lights were raised, Shiro started shoving his way back toward the stage. It was uncomfortable and awkward and there was more than a little beer on and in his shoes, but it was well worth it when he got to throw his arms around Keith’s shoulders and pepper his sweaty face in rapid-fire kisses, gushing about how amazing the show was. 

The others cheered and pulled both of them into a group hug when Shiro announced Matt was very interested in hearing more from them. As they started packing up their equipment, everyone was excitedly chirping about how soon they could pull together the money to get some recording time and what everyone’s schedules were likely to be for more practice. It delighted Shiro to hear Keith joining in, just as excited as the others. 

Adam and Curtis poked their heads through the curtain and approached the band after a hearty wave from everyone. 

“You guys sounded amazing!” Adam said with a grin. 

Shiro was more than a little surprised that he remembered Adam’s frequent backstage praises during Seam Ripper’s infancy with much more fondness than bitterness as he showered the band with compliments. Still, it was hard to enjoy the moment and Shiro found himself standing back from the group and awkwardly rearranging a box as Adam spoke with them. 

“Ugh, that manager though,” Adam spat with a grimace. “She’s a piece of work. I don’t know why my groupies are always so awful, but I’m glad she was useful for something at least.” 

Romelle stopped in the middle of rolling up a bundle of wires and cocked her head to the side. “Wait… why do you have groupies, Alex? Are you in a band too?” 

Adam jerked his head back as if she’d slapped him. “Are you kidding me?” 

“Uhh... No?”

No one moved or made a single noise. Even with the muffled noises of the crowd just beyond the curtain, Shiro swore he could have heard a pin drop in the awkward hush that fell over the group. 

“I’m Adam… Adam Warshall? From Stream Valley?” He said incredulously. “There are posters with my face directly in the middle of them all over your town.” 

Romelle stared at him for a long moment with her hand on her chin. “Hm… not ringing a bell. Sorry.”    
  
Adam sighed and clapped a hand over his mouth before shrugging, apparently willing to just let the incident go by without further commentary. Slowly conversation resumed in the small group and everyone finished packing up the last of the equipment.

Just as they were about to load all the boxes onto dollies and carry them out to Hunk’s truck, Romelle dropped her box and snapped her fingers. “Wait, Stream Valley... is that the one where they solve crimes with math?” 

Adam let out a guttural cry of frustration and grabbed at his hair “What!? No!”

“Babe, babe, it’s okay.” Curtis grabbed his arm and gently whispered to him before he could continue his tirade. “Thanks guys, we’re gonna head out!” He called awkwardly as he all but dragged Adam back toward the stairs. 

Another awkward hush fell over the group before Romelle barked out a laugh and clapped Shiro on the back. “I’ve actually seen every episode of that show but Hunk told me he was your ex and I just wanted to mess with him.” 

The entire group erupted with a bout of laughter that didn’t entirely fizzle out until everyone was saying goodbye in the parking lot. 


	8. Chapter 8

The ride back to the hotel felt like it passed in the blink of an eye and flopping back down on the luxurious bed felt like heaven. Shiro sighed and let out a quiet chuckle as he spread his arms and legs like he was making a snow angel in the fresh sheets. He was confused when his arm didn’t bump into Keith at all and slowly sat up, sliding over the now-rumpled duvet to join Keith at the edge of the bed. 

“You okay?” Shiro asked quietly, resting his hand on Keith’s shoulder. 

Keith sighed and shook his head. “I appreciate you talking Sanda into letting us play, but…” 

Shiro waited a long moment, but Keith made no move to finish his sentence. “But what?” 

Tension radiated between them and Keith’s shoulders were so tense Shiro was worried he might get up and storm out at any moment, but he had no idea what could have upset Keith so much after such a good day. 

“What’s the deal with you and Adam? What even happened?” He finally blurted, turning to Shiro with confusion on his face. “I get that he’s the only reason Sanda let us play, but the way he came backstage… I don't know. I’m mad at him and I don’t even know why.” 

Shiro sighed and pulled Keith closer, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “It’s a long story, but you told me yours so it’s only fair.” 

Keith let Shiro hold him to his chest patiently for a moment before they pulled away from each other. 

“Everything was really great for a while. He was in a few commercials, Seam Ripper had a few gigs, we weren’t rich but we never worried where our next meal would come from. But then…” Shiro clenched his fist and rolled his shoulders, trying to let some of the tension bleed out of them.

The story was an old one and it should have been an old wound, already a long-healed scar, but talking about it again made his chest ache. 

“He got an audition for that stupid show and I was so happy for him when he got the part. But TV shows are a lot of work, he was gone a lot, and then the show took off.” Shiro paused and ran a hand through his hair. “We couldn’t go anywhere without being mobbed by screaming 16 year old girls and there were always cameras in our faces. We had to move because someone posted our address online. It was miserable, but I knew it wasn’t his fault. I still acted like a pretty big dick about it, looking back, and I do feel bad about that.” 

Keith nodded sympathetically and put his hand on Shiro’s shoulder. “Been there. Sometimes it’s hard to see outside of things when you’re right in the middle.” 

Shiro smiled sadly and put his hand over Keith’s, lightly squeezing his fingers. “It all went to shit when we landed our first tour. It was only a month, and just around California, but I was gone and he couldn’t come with me and we fought on the phone almost every night. It only got worse when they wanted him to spend an entire winter filming in Toronto.” 

The memories still stung. Long, lonely nights waiting up by his phone, Adam’s angry voice on the other end of the line, blowing up about nothing but never being able to bring himself to apologize first. Shiro shook his head. 

“Anyway, Adam got back and said I either had to go with him wherever he had to go film, no matter what the band was doing, or we had to break up. I told him it was an easy choice and walked out the door straight to Matt’s place… I didn’t even go back to pick up any of my stuff for almost a month.” 

Keith’s hand slipped from under Shiro’s and wound around his back, pulling him into a loose hold against Keith’s chest. “I’m sorry, Shiro.” His voice was so quiet it was hard to hear over the thudding of Keith’s heart against Shiro’s ear. 

“Thanks,” he whispered, melting into the embrace. 

“Sounds like you both made some mistakes, maybe tonight was his way of making up for it?” Keith asked, brushing his lips against Shiro’s head. 

Shiro nodded. “Yeah, I think it was. I should probably thank him but…” 

“When you’re ready,” Keith interrupted, pushing Shiro back off of his chest to look him in the eye. 

“Yeah.” Shiro closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. “I think I’m almost there.” 

Keith leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Shiro’s lips. “Let’s go to bed, ‘m exhausted.” 

Shiro couldn’t help the yawn that pulled its way from his chest, nor the laugh that followed. They crawled under the covers and wrapped their arms around each other, falling sound asleep in hardly any time at all. 

* * *

Shiro woke up the next morning with sore shoulders but a lighter soul. Keith was still curled around him, nestled into the space between his chin and chest like it had been made for him. The sun had barely begun to rise over the ocean just outside the window and Shiro was happy to lie there listening to the steady rise and fall of Keith’s breathing and watch the water become slowly bathed in gold.

He almost fell asleep a few times, but when his eyelids began to droop, Keith would shift or make a noise and Shiro couldn’t help but look back down at him and smile. It felt more than a little silly but he’d grown used to waking up with Keith in his arms over the past week and it was almost hard to imagine what it would be like to go back to waking up alone. 

Shiro refused to let himself dwell on the thought, instead he pressed his lips to Keith’s cheek, slowly peppering kisses along his jaw and down his chest until Keith woke up with a contented hum. 

“Well good morning to you, too,” Keith murmured, sighing as Shiro lightly dragged his teeth across Keith’s collarbone. 

“Sure is,” Shiro agreed with a smirk before turning back to the trail he was leaving down Keith’s chest. 

Shiro wanted to memorize every curve, every freckle, every hard line of muscle on Keith’s body. His lips and tongue outlined every feature and tried to burn them into his brain. The slow, almost lazy, pace of the morning carried on for ages and Shiro let himself get lost in Keith and the serenity he felt. 

After showering off the morning’s activities, they decided to have a quiet lunch on the beach and grab Keith’s guitar on the way back to the hotel so they could play together throughout the afternoon. Sitting on a pile of blankets on the floor and playing guitar with Keith was a memory Shiro knew he would cherish for the rest of his life. 

As the sun slowly sank below the balcony, so did Shiro’s mood. Thoughts of having to leave in the morning and go back to being alone and all the things he wanted to say to Keith were swirling around his head so fast it almost made him dizzy. 

Keith’s posture shifted and it felt like he was reading Shiro’s mind. He set his guitar on the floor beside him and sighed. “Can’t believe you’re goin’ home tomorrow…” 

“Yeah…” Shiro trailed off, unsure how to continue or voice any of the thousands of thoughts that were on the tip of his tongue. 

Keith fidgeted and brushed a few stray fibers from his pants, staring straight at the floor instead of looking at Shiro. The tension and awkwardness in the air made it feel thick and almost hard to breathe. 

Finally, Shiro decided that the worst Keith could do was shoot him down and he had to know for sure; he knew he would never forgive himself if he didn’t take the chance. 

“Look, I know distance didn’t work out for me and Adam, but I learned so much from that. I really think we could-” 

“Shiro, don’t,” Keith’s voice broke as he pled. “Just… just enjoy tonight.” 

Shiro’s heart sank, and he knew he should let things go if that’s what Keith wanted, but he had to try or at least get Keith to tell him why they shouldn’t. “Keith, I…” 

Before he could finish his sentence, Keith was in his lap, mouth pressed firmly against Shiro’s. Shiro melted into the kiss for a moment, let himself give and receive the comfort it provided, but had to pull away. He had to know. 

“I can’t just let this be it, Keith. It feels like it could be something really special if we let it.” His voice was soft and gentle, and he ran a shaky hand through Keith’s hair as soothingly as he could. 

Keith sat back and his shoulders slumped. Pain and fear and sadness warred for prominence on his face. 

Shiro’s heart felt like a battering ram against his ribs, but he knew he had more to say and this might be his only chance. “I… I could see it being really easy to fall in love with you if you’ll let me,” he whispered. 

Keith’s eyes widened and his head shot up to meet Shiro’s intense gaze. He let his head tip up and down in a small nod. “I think… I think I know what you mean. I just need more time to think about everything.” 

Shiro let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Of course, there’s no rush.” 

He leaned closer and pressed his lips to Keith’s in a chaste kiss. “At least promise you’ll record something. Even if you don’t want to talk to me, Hunk has Matt’s info. You guys are really good.” 

Keith laughed and wrapped his arms around Shiro’s shoulders, nuzzling his cheek against Shiro’s. “I will, promise,” he murmured. 

They held each other, tangled together on the floor surrounded by all the bedding for a long while. There was still a lot left unsaid but a tiny glimmer of hope sparked in Shiro’s chest. Regardless, Shiro was intent to make their last night together enjoyable and Keith was more than willing to do his part. 

* * *

Shiro woke up with a start as the gentle click of the bathroom door echoed in the quiet room. The cold sheets pooled around his waist and he blinked in confusion as his mind tried to make sense of why Keith would be coming out of the bathroom, freshly showered and only missing his shirt. His heart sank as Keith’s eyes finally met his, a guilty, watery sheen clouding the normally vibrant color. 

“You’re leaving,” Shiro murmured, still half in disbelief. 

“So are you,” Keith replied flatly. The dull sound felt like a kick to Shiro’s chest. 

He tossed the sheets aside and flew out of bed. “Keith, wait, I…” 

Shiro tried to pull Keith into a hug, but Keith’s outstretched arms gripped his shoulders and held him back. “Shiro, I…” He shook his head and relaxed his shoulders, letting his hands fall back to his side. “It’s better this way. Goodbyes are too hard.” 

It was hard to see past the tears welling in his eyes, but Shiro blinked them away to take Keith in one last time. The unbound waves of black hair swept over Keith’s sun-kissed shoulders, the uneven and fading red dye at the tips making each freckle stand out. His sharp chin was nearly against his chest, and Shiro couldn’t help reaching out to tip it up. Keith’s eyes were like the ocean at night, an inky blue so dark it could have been black or even violet. Tears swam there too, and Shiro hoped they wouldn’t fall, knew it would have broken his heart to see the tracks on Keith’s perfect cheeks, the quiver of his soft lips. 

There was so much he wanted to say, but the only thing that came out of his mouth was, “I'm just... I'm so glad to have met you, Keith.”

Keith’s jaw moved like he was going to speak for a long moment, but no sound emerged. Instead, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against Shiro’s so softly Shiro was almost afraid to breathe, afraid that would be all it would take to push them away. 

Keith lingered there for a long moment, resting his hand on Shiro’s chest. “I’m glad I met you, too, Shiro.” His voice broke on Shiro’s name and his hand slid back down to his side. 

Before Shiro could find the right words, could beg Keith not to go, to promise he’d find a way to stay, something, anything, Keith had grabbed his guitar and walked out the door. 

He didn’t bother holding back the tears any longer. Crumpling to the floor, Shiro allowed himself a few minutes to fall apart. His shoulder shook as he sobbed. 

It was hard to get back up and even harder to drag himself into the bathroom to wash his face pull himself together. Shiro stared at himself in the mirror for a long moment and tried to convince himself it was for the best. 

Maybe Keith would send him the recording in a few weeks and they could talk. Matt might even want to fly back out to hear them live and he was sure it wouldn’t be hard to talk Matt into bringing him along… if Keith even wanted to see him. 

Shiro shook his head and with it the thought. It had only been a week, but Shiro was convinced it had meant something. Even if he never saw Keith again, he’d always have the memories of how wonderful the week had been. And if he was brave enough for the conversation once he was home, it might even have given the closure with Adam he so desperately needed. 

Slowly, Shiro finished cleaning himself up and made his way throughout the suite. He hadn’t brought much, so packing up didn’t take very long at all. His phone charger was the only thing missing, so he trudged over to yank it from the wall and shove it into his suitcase, but paused when he saw a black guitar pick sitting on the bedside table. 

A fresh swell of tears flooded his eyes when he realized it had to be Keith’s. Almost without thinking, he grabbed it and slid it behind his ID in his wallet for safe keeping. It felt a little pathetic, but it seemed like the perfect reminder of Keith and their time together. 

He managed to pull himself together enough to make it to the airport with plenty of time to spare for his flight. The Stream Valley posters lining the walls didn’t fill him with anger or disgust like they had when he first arrived and it felt good to be free of so much negativity after so long. Shiro knew he’d have to talk to Adam once they were both back on the mainland and while he wasn’t looking forward to the conversation, he finally felt ready to have it. 

The book he brought wouldn’t hold his attention, and after reading the same paragraph four or five times, Shiro gave up and put it away. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through the far too few pictures he and Keith had taken together throughout the week and felt tears prick his eyes again. 

Not wanting to cry alone at the airport was the only thing that managed to convince Shiro to close the camera roll and open the news. He wasn’t particularly interested in anything happening on his feed, but he desperately needed the mindless distraction until he could pass out on the plane. 

A familiar voice rang through his ears and Shiro almost didn’t believe it at first, but he dropped his phone into his open bag and looked around. His eyes widened as Keith called his name again and ran toward him. Shiro barely had time to stand up and open his arms before Keith was slamming into his chest. 

They held each other for a long moment before Shiro pulled away just far enough to cup Keith’s face in his hand. His thumb brushed away a streak of tears flowing down Keith’s cheeks. Before he could muster the courage to ask, Keith let out a half laugh, half sob. 

“I was wrong. I wanna try. I don’t want it to end like this,” Keith stammered, voice cracking and stuffy. 

Shiro let his own tears fall and leaned in for a salty kiss. “God, you have no idea how glad I am to hear that,” he murmured against Keith’s lips. 

Keith nodded and kissed him again before pulling away to wipe his face. 

“How did… how did you even get here?” Shiro finally managed to ask, even though it was the least of the hundreds of questions he desperately wanted answered. 

Keith laughed and shook his head, letting himself fall even further into Shiro’s embrace. “Lance works for the TSA and escorted me past security.” 

Shiro stood in shocked silence for a moment before exploding with laughter and hugging Keith tightly against him. “Well tell him I’ll send him a couple of albums signed by the whole band.” 

They held each other in content silence until Shiro’s flight began boarding. 

“I’ll call you as soon as I get home, Keith. We’ll make this work, I swear,” Shiro promised, pulling Keith in for one last kiss. 

“I know we will,” Keith agreed with a smile. 


	9. EPILOGUE

Normally after a show, Shiro would be buzzing with energy. The adrenaline would course through his veins like lightning and he’d be bouncing off the walls, hyping up the rest of the band about how great they did. Tonight, though, Shiro was just tired. 

Their opening band had cancelled last minute and a handful of the audience had been angry, disappointed, and loud about it. In order to mitigate the situation, the venue manager had suggested Seam Ripper go on early and do a few extra songs, which normally wouldn’t have been so hard, but Shiro also hadn’t heard from Keith all day. 

For the last six months, they’d been making things work long distance. It was hard, but Shiro knew it was worth it. Every time he talked to Keith on the phone or got to spend a lazy afternoon on video chat with him it brightened his day. He felt like he had a new lease on life. 

Usually. 

Before every show, Keith would normally at least send him a picture blowing a kiss for good luck, but Shiro hadn’t heard anything since their normal good morning exchange. He wasn’t the jealous or suspicious type, but he was prone to worry and hadn’t heard from any of Keith’s friends either. Resorting to looking up Keith’s mom on Facebook and trying to message her to see if she knew if her son was okay seemed to be crossing a line, but the anxiety was gnawing at his gut. 

Matt flopped down on the couch next to him and slung an arm over his shoulder. “What’s the matter Eeyore?” He asked in a patronizing tone that made Shiro roll his eyes. 

“Nothing. Just tired after playing for an extra half hour. When do the VIPs get here?” Shiro said flatly, locking his phone and tucking it back in his pocket. 

Matt grinned and tried to shake Shiro by the grip he had on Shiro’s arm, but really only succeeded in wiggling himself back and forth. “Should be here any minute. I think you’re really gonna like this crowd.” 

Shiro only barely managed to suppress the groan that threatened to spill from his throat. “More of Lotor’s rich friends?” 

“You’ll see,” Matt replied with a wide cheshire grin. 

As if the universe was somehow in on Matt’s shitty joke, a loud knock sounded at the door. Shiro sighed and stood up, plastering on a fake smile as Matt leapt over the couch to pull the door open. 

Shiro’s mouth dropped open and his eyes welled with tears as Keith stood behind the door with a wide grin on his face and a bouquet in his hands. 

“Hey,” Keith said in a tone far too casual. He crossed the room in a few quick strides and pressed a kiss to Shiro’s cheek. 

Shiro snapped his jaw shut and took the flowers Keith was gently pressing into his chest. His throat felt like he’d just swallowed a boulder. 

He sniffled and cleared his throat before cupping Keith’s face in his free hand. “You? How? What?” 

Keith smiled and turned his head, pressing his lips to Shiro’s palm. “Matt called this morning and said your opener backed out on you. I knew a couple of C listers who weren’t doing anything for a while so,” he shrugged and his smile spilled into a grin at the shock still on Shiro’s face. “Hope you don’t mind us crashing your tour bus.” 

Shiro was still trying to process what Keith had just said when Matt interjected. “No way! We’re getting another bus just for you guys. I am  _ not  _ listening to you bang every night!”

Shiro groaned and flipped Matt off as his brain finally caught up to the situation. 

He pulled Keith closer and kissed him like he’d been burning to for the last six months, completely oblivious to the rest of the people in the room. All that mattered was Keith being by side, right where he was meant to be. All of Shiro’s worries faded away into that kiss, and he knew he was about to have the best tour ever. 


End file.
